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AUTHOR: 


JACCACI,  AUGUSTO 
FLORIANO 


TITLE: 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  DON 
QUIXOTE 

PLACE: 

NEW  YORK 

DA  TE : 

1896 


COLUMIHA  UNIVERSITY  IJORARIRS 

VRUSiiKyAiKJi;  Di:i'AKrMi:N  i' 


BIBLIOGKArillCMICROrOKM  lAKCi-J' 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


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300 

600 

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0 

700 

10 

LOG 

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L:eng 

PD:1896/ 
OR:     POL: 

:;:cKNC 

G-3P  --- 

Jaccaci,  Auoucto  F  lor- iano  ,  rdlSS7-1930  . 

On  the  trail  of  Don  Quixote{:h[(r.icrof  or  mj ;  ^^bbeing  a  record  of 
n  the  ancient  province  of  La  hancha,i:cby  August  F.  Jaccaci,  il 
bv  Daniel  Vierge. 

New  York,t=5^C.  Scribner's  3ons,rCl896. 

XXV,    239    p.^t)illuc.^c22    cm. 

Cervantes    Saavedra,    higuel    de  ,  i:dlS47 -161o  .  ^Don    Quixote 

Hancha,   La,   Spain 

Vierge,  Daniel  Urrabieta,  ;:di85i-1904  ,  {^ei  1  Is  , 

RLIN 

12-09-92 


BoE 


rambles  1 
lustrated 


TECHNICAL  MICROFORM  DAY  A 
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DAfE      FILMED:______'i:,_-t£)j^i> INITI  .\LS_f3i,L^vrL. 

HLMED  BY:     RESEARCH  PUBLICATIONS,  JNC    VVOODI3R1DGE,  CT 


r 1 


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MPNUFRCTURED   TO  PIIM  STRNDfiRDS 
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On  the  Trail  of  Don  Quixote 


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ON    THE   TRAIL 

OF 

Don  Quixote 


Being    a    Record    of   Rambles    in    the 
Ancient  Province  of  La  Mancha 


BY 


AUGUST  F.  JACCACI 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 


DANTFr.    VTFRGF 


NEW     YORK 

CHARLES   SCKIBNER'S   SONS 

MDCCCXCVI 


J,. 


O 

en 


il 


Copyright,  1896,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


I 


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\ 


To 
William  C.  Brownell 


M 


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) 


PREFACE 

^T^HIS  hook  is  the  natural  outgrowth  of  a  friend- 
ship  between   artist  and  author  —  the  one  a 
Spaniard,  the  other  familiar  from  youth  with  Spain, 

and  both  lovers  of  the  booh  wherein  are  recounted 
the  adventures  of  the  good  Knight  and  of  his  faith- 
ful  Squire.  The  writer  had  always  felt  that  the 
illustrations  of  Cervantes's  immortal  romance  should 
be  the  crowning  achievement  of  t^ierge's  career,  and 

it  was  primarily  for  the  purpose  of  giving  l^ierge 

the  opportunities  of  gathering  the  documents  from 
life  and  nature  necessary  for  such  an  undertaking 
that  the  two  friends  had  for  years  projected  a  jour- 
ney through  La  Mancha,  for  it  is  incredible  how  few 
changes  have  taken  place  in  the  home  of  the  hero 
since  the  days  of  his  wanderings.     The  customs,  the 

character,  the  manner  of  dress,  mi  the  speech  of  its 

inhabitants,  have  remained  practically  unchanged,  and 
of  its  landmarks  Cervantes  has  made  such  vivid 
pictures    that   one  finds    it    easy   to    identify   them. 


IX 


I-^rcfc 


ace 


Through   unexpected  circumstances   the  artist  had  to 

go  alone,  and  less  than  a  year  after  tbe  autbor  fol- 
louwi  minutely  his  friend's  itinerary.  As  it  is, 
pictoridlly  and  in  words,  this  book  is  • '  un  Hire  de 

bonne  foy,"  a  simple  record  of  Jiotes  and  impressions 
from  nature.  The  text  telling  of  wheat-harvesting 
and   midsummer    sunshine;    the  pictures    depict ino^ 

grape-gathering,  wine-making,  and  tbe  lowering  gray 
skies  of  Autumn. 

It  is  safe  to  let  speak  for  themselves  the  pictures 

of  that  master  draughtsman  who,  in  remaini)ig  scru- 
pulously true  to  facts,  has  the  power  to  endow  tbcni 
with  the  dramatic  feeling,  tbe  nervous  charm,  of  bis 

artistic  personality. 

The  writer  felt,  more  profoundly  than  be  could 
express  in  icords,  bow,  in  such  a  community,  tbe 
remnants  and  voices  of  the  past  form  an  essential 
part  of  tbe  living  present.  He  zvished  above  all  that 
be  could  have  made  his  ramblinp-  no^es  ring  with 
more  of  his  keen  delight  and  appreciation  of  active, 

Open-air  life  in  a  rarely  varied  (iihi  plCtliiCSijKC 
region  happily  as  yet  despised  ly  tbe  tourist. 


A'ofCfudc'r,  iS<^6. 


A.  r.  J. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  ARGAMASILLA 


PAGE 


I\Iadrid~Ciudad   Real— ALqnzanares— A  Bodega— The 
Postal  Carriage— Argamasilla  de  Alba,  .        .        .      i 

CHAPTER    H 
ARGAMASILLA 

Gregorio— The  Parador  del  Carmen— Posada  Life— The 

Popular  Idea  of  Don  Quixote-The  Men-The 

Women— Religious  Feeling— Landowner  and  Ten- 
ant—The Casa  de  Medrano— Don  Rodrigo  de 
Pacheco— Cervantcs's  Birthplace— The  Priest— The 


Guadiana, 


Is 


CHAPTER  HI 


THE    CAVE    OF    MONTESINOS 


Ezechiel's  Cart — The  Guardias  Civiles — The  Fulling- 
MiUs — Ruidera — Lunch — Mule  and  Muleteer — Osa 
de  Monteil— A  Goatherd— The  Cave — The  Lagoons 
of  Ruidera,      •••.....     6l 


XI 


Contents 


CHAPTER  IV 


MONTEIL 


El  Cortijo  de  San  Pedro—The  Hermitage  of  Saelices  — 
A  Homicide— The  Lagoons— The  Castle  of  Rocha- 
frida— The  Taciturn  Shepherds— \'iIlahermosa  — 
The  Castle  of  Monteil— Pedro  the  Cruel  and  Henry 

Of  Trasiauiara-Tlie  Old   Romanoes-The   Re- 
turn Journey— Hunting— Another  Legacy  of   the 

-floors, 


CHAPTER  V 

EL    TOBOSO 

The  Plain  of  La  Mancha— The  \'enta  de  Quesada— 

The  Royal  Highway-Herencia-»The  Fe:i^t  of  St. 

James— The  Church- Guitarists— Alcazar  de  San 
Juan-The  Wind  Mills— Campo  de  Crijitano  — 
Siesta— Toboso— A  Model  Inn— The  Fanatic  Pro- 
prietor—A Quinteria,       . 

•  •  • 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE    MOREXA 

Ezechiels  Adieux— Valdepenas— Almuradlel- Old  Jose 
— The  Sierra— Viso  del  Marques— Casa  Teresa— 
The  Fiesta— The  Bull  Fight— An  Open-air  Theatre 
—Excursion  to  a  Mountain  Garden— Los  Moli 


PAGE 


III 


nos,  .   173 


xu 


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A 


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Contents 


CHAPTER  VH 


VENTA    DE   CARDENAS 


PAGE 


The  Royal  Highway— Typical  Mountain  Scenery— \'enta 
de  Cardenas— Apprentice  Toreros— A  Family  of 
Bohemian  Fakirs — Despehaperros— Andalusia,       .215 


XIU 


.V- 


■yi!/!'.>^^ 


/ 


^ 


>  I — -. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Pa^^e 


The  (^uesf-room  at  the  Casa  Teresa,  El  Viso.  The 
holy  images  on  the  zualh,  the  little  statuette  of 
Our  Lady  on  the  fine  old  chest  of  dra^vers  arc 
such  as  one  finds  in  all  nice  houses  of  La  Man- 

^^^'^' Frontispiece 

Limch-tiinc  in  a  bodega.  Manzanares.  The  peasant 
laborers  ivho  fnd  employ ineiit  during  the  wine- 
making  season  come  from  all  parts  of  La 
Mancha.     To  save  the  little  money  they  ?nake  they 

sleep  i,i  the  doorTvays  of  the  houses,  afid  li-ve  ahfzost 
exehisiz^cly    on     '^ garbanzos''     and    coarse     black 

bread, 

*■-••• 

ILead  of  a  blind  mendicant, 

A  Tohosan  woman  cart-pedler  on  market-day. 

The  court-yard  of  a  chalk  mill  at  Afanza^iares,    . 

A  postal  carriage  on  the  run  fro  jn  the  station  of  Arga- 

7nasilla  to  the  pueblo, q 

A  peasant  of  Puerto  Lapicc  peddling  fruit  in  a  street 

of  Alcazar  de  San  Juan^       .  .  .  ,  .10 

A  ''galena;'  a  sort  of  far?n  wagon,  in  general  use  in 

the  Cas titles,  ...  7-3 

Gregorio,  the  ' '  atno  "  of  the  Parador  del  Carmen,  .  /^ 
A  luoman  of  Afonteil,  .  .  .  .  ^  .17 


2 

3 

5 

7 


XV 


List  of  Illustrations 


Page 
Muleteers  iti  the   posada^   Argatnasilla.      Their  scant 

and  typical  costume^  short  trousers,  he?np  sandals y 

tied  ivith   ropes  round  their  legs ^  kerchiefs  round 

their  heads,  and  '^faj'as''    {belts),  is   the   same  all 

the  year  round,   except  that  in  ivinter  a  coat,  or 

^^  capote,""  is  added,      .  .  .  •  •  •     ^9 

The  Utile  plaza  behind  the  church  at  ArgamasiUa.  In 
the  street  opening  on  the  row  of  houses  shozvn  in 
the  drawing  is  situated  the  Casa  de  Medrano,        .    20 

Scene  in  the posada  stables^  ArgamasiUa,  .         .    21 

Weighing  grapes   in  the  court-yard  of  the  posada^ 

ArgamasiUa,      ....'-'    22 
Tobosan  pedler  of  puchcros  [glazed  wares),  .         .    2j 

Gregorio's  wife  buying  from  a  strect-pedler  {one  from 
the  plain  of  Montcil^  j^^^S^^K^  A^'^^    ^^^^  P^^^y 

cap),  .....-••      ^J 

One  of  the  rare  good  times  of  the  tvomen.      The  "  atna  " 
"visiting  a  friend.       The   scene   is   the   hall  or  pas- 
sageway   behind    the    street-door,    which    is    used 
among  the  Tjillage  people  as  liznng-room.  Par  lor  ^ 
etc.,     .........     2/ 

The  kitchen  of  the  Parador  del  Carmen,      .  .28 

The  posada   of   ArgamasiUa   at  grape-harvest  time, 

when  the  grapes  are  carried  from  the  ''galenas'' 

into  the  big  stone  vats  where  the  wine  is  to  be 
viade,        .  .......    jc* 

A  street  scene  in  Osa  de  Monteil,  the  womati  knitting 
in  a  chair  before  her  door  step,  perfectly  undisturbed 
by  the  pigs  there  sqtiatting  about,  ,  .  •    JJ 


XVI 


List  of  Illustrations 


xvn 


Page 
The  entrance  of  the  cellar  ivhicJi  zvas  Ce r7J ante s'' s prison 

in  the  court-yard  of  the  Casa  Medra?to,  .  .     J4 

The    cellar  Prison,    shoiuing    the  old   door    {It  is   nouf 

used  as   a    sort   of  store-room  for  jars  of  wine, 

tic.),.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .      Jjj 

Don  Rodrigo  de  Pachcco.    A  sketch  taken  from  the  head 

oj  the  painting  at  ArgamasiUa ,  ....  37 

''  /lis  favorite  chair  in  the  barber  s  shop.''  A  portrait 
of  the  priest  spoken  of  in  the  story  ;  the  saine  shav- 
ing-basin, primitive  old  lanip,  of  like  ?nodcl  and 
fashioned  by  hand  as  in  Cervantes' s  ti?ne.  The 
fnie  ?natting  o?i  the  Jloor  shoivs  this  barber'' s  shop 
to  be  the  "  Salon  Cafe,''''  zuhcrc  all  the  ?iotablcs  of 
the  pueblo  gather,         .  .  .  .  .  -    SP 

*'  Feminine   curiosity.''    The  posada    of  ArgamasiUa. 

The  screen  of  luood-ivorh  ilirough  Tvhicli  the  ivom- 
an  looks  is  essentially  Moorish,      .  .  .  .40 

The  priesfs  niece  looking  down  from  her  balcony 
(ArgamasiUa),    .......    4T 

^'Feminine  curiosity.'''    A  woman,  rigged  for  work, 

her  heavy  outside  skirt  gathered  up  round  her 
hips,  interrupts  her  scrubbing  to  look  at  the  passer- 
by— a  rare  enough  occurrence  in  the  usually  quiet 
Streets  of  Arga?nasilla J -/J 

The  plaza  of  Arga?/iasitta  o?i  jnarket-day.  Aji  autu7n7i 
scejie  tuhen  the  air  is  sJiarp  in  spite  of  the  su?i. 
The  first  peasant  merchant  in  the  foreground 
wears  a  ''  capa,^'  the  second  is  bundled  up  in  a 
^^  capote.'''      The  church  shows  in  the  background,     4S 


List  of  lllustraiioiis 


A  scene  betiuccn  a  pcdlcr  and  a  house-keeper^  showifis^ 
the  ifittrior  of  cx  Jiouse  of  Toboso — one  of  the  oldest 
and  most  picturesque  houses  in  JLa  Jlla/ieha , 

A  'wonia}i  tooki)ig  at  peasant  pedter^s  stock  of  pump- 
kins— Alcazar  de  San  fuan,  .... 

Dance    at   the    posada^    Arga  mas  ilia.       A^o    refres/i- 

nients  hni  7vater  are  served  at  siieJi   dances.       The 
orchestra  is  composed  of  guitars  and  a  violin,  hut 
the  guests  join  from  time  to  time  in  a  song,   . 
A  scene  in  the  posada,  Argajnasilla, 

A  street  scene  at  Almuradiel,  sho7uin^  a  lot  of  freshly 

gathered  peppers  hung  up  to  dry  ^ 
Ploughing  in  the  highlands,  between  Monteil  and  Villa- 

hermosa,     ........ 

EzechicVs  eart  at  the  gate  of  the  posada^  Argama- 

sitia,  ........ 

A  J\7(idera  street  see  fie,  shoiving  the  jtngaifily  a?id 
heaz'y  costtitne  of  the  ivoman,  skirts  pulled  up  on 
the  hips,  revealing  the  trousers  luorn  tinder- 
neath.  The  tivo  ruffians  in  tJie  foregromid  are 
types  of  shiftless  individuals  la ho  loaf  as  a  regular 
mode  of  life.  The  young  womafi  in  light  clothes, 
with  a  broom  in  her  hand,  is  the  7iewly  married 

"ama''  of  the  house  where  artist  and  author 

found  shelter,     ....... 

EzcchieVs  cart,  tvhich  is  built  on  the  same  priticiple  as 
the  Sicilian  and  Maltese  carts,  and  the  "  araba^'* 
the  only  vehicle  knozvti  in  Northern  Africa j 

The  road  to  the  Fulling  Mills,     .  .  .  .  ■ 


Page 


t6 


49 


50 
53 

54 
57 

59 


62 


64 


I  ' 


XVIU 


List  of  Illustrations 


//  characteristic  bit  of  scenery  on  the  way  to  Ruidera,  . 
"  Arrieros''  01  the  road  skirting  the  lagoons  of  Rui- 

Aft  i?icide?it  of  the  artist's  journey  tuhere,  before  the 
Cortijo  dc  San  Pedro,  the  swolle?i  lagoons  had  over- 
flowed the  road,  ...... 

A  street  ifi  ^Mo/iteil.  The  furry  cap  of  the  figure  in  the 
foreground  was  the  Manchegan  headgear  in  Cer- 
va7ites\<;  time,       ....... 

A  woman  of  Ruidera,        ...... 

Another  street  scene  of  Ruidera,  .         .         .         . 

The  entrance  to  the  Cave  of  Montesinos,  There  is 
another,  which  is  some  two  hundred  feet  to  the 
right,  but  being  well-like,  it  is  impracticable, 

Episode  of  the  artist s  fourney :  Near  the  cave^   , 

Episode  of  the  artist's  journey  :  The  cart-driver  7irgi?ig 
him  to  depart  fro}7t  a  posada  ivheti  he  and  the 
faynily  had  hardly  sat  doivn  to  their  meal, 

A  bit  of  Monteil,         ....... 

TyPe  of  goatherd,  sketched  near   Villaherjjiosa, 

The  lagoon  of  La   Colgada,   near  the  cave  of  Montesi- 
nos, the  deepest  and  largest  of  all  the  lagootis  of 
Ruidera,    ........ 

The  edge  of  a  lagoon, 

77ie  ruined  interior  of  the  hermitage  of  Saelices,  . 
The  entrance  to  the  hermitage  of  Saelices^    . 
Skirting  the  lagoon  near  the  Cortijo  de  San  Pedro ^ 
An  upper  valley  of  the  Guadiana^       .         .         .         . 
Shepherds^  huts,  sketched  on  the  road  to  Villahermosa,    . 


Page 
66 


6S 


'O 


71 

72 

75 


76 

n 


7S 
79 
So 


Si 

Sj 
S6 
Sg 
go 

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XIX 


List  of  Illustrations 


List  of  Illustrations 


Shepherds  in  the  canon-like  bed  of  the  ivinter  torrent, 
between  the  valley  of  the  Guadiana  and  ll/iaher- 
mosa,  ........      pj 

The  Castle  of  Pedro  the  Cruel,  at  Monte il,  as  first  seen 
on  coming  from  Villahermosa  {the  village  of  Mon- 
te il  being  hidden  behind  the  hill),  .  .  .    g6 

The  Castle  oj  Pedro  ike  Cruel,  from  a  street  In  Mon- 
teil,    .........    gy 

A  typical  afternoon  scene  in  a  street  of  Monteil.  The 
woman  beckoning  with  her  hand  in  the  foreground 
is  a  pcdkr  of  lottery  tickets  y        .       .       .       ,    gg 

Approaching  Villahermosa,         .....  loi 
The  Castle  of  Pedro  the  Cruel,  from  a  street  in  Monteil,  102 
An  episode  of  the  artistes  journey  :    Arguing  with  the 
driver  of  the  cart^  %vho  for  some  reason  does  not 

luish  to  start,  iv/ii/t'  t/ic  artisf  s  J'ritfKts  srr  that  t/ie 
proper  proifis  ions  are  packed  in   the  baskets  for  the 

.  104 
The  old  duenna  in  the 
foregrou)id  signs  herself  devoutly  in  passing  before 
the  holy  image  of  the  Madonna,  dressed  up  like  a 
doll,  and  set  up  on  a  little  altar-like  affair  against 
the  wall  of  a  house.   A  pair  of  crutches  on  one  side 

of  Ik  Statue,  mm  wax  fed  on  tin  otJin\  sJunu  the 

gratitude  of  people  cured  by  the  miraculous  inter' 
cession  of  this  particular  image.  Three  of  the 
horribly  maimed  mendicants,  that  one  sees  only 
in  Spain,  are  lying  on  the  sidewalk   under  the 

statue^  ........  10^ 


Page 


jotirfiey^ 
Street  scene  at   Villahermosa 


The  entrance  to  Villahermosa.      The  barber's  shop   in 

front, lOY 

Sleeping  quarters  of  the  artist   in    a  private    house  of 

Villahermosa,      .  ...  .  .  .  .  loS 

The  danee  at  Herencia.  The  semi-civilised  dress  of  the 
men  is  typical  of  Herencia,  one  of  the  jnost  pros- 
perous towns  of  the  province  of  Ctudaa  Real,         .  112 

The  Royal  Highway  between  Madrid  and  Seville,    IIS,  1 1? 

A  solitary  mendicant  on  the  Royal  Highway,       .         .  118 

Pedler  selling  his  stock  of  cotton  cloths  at  auction  in  a 
street  of  Herencia, ^21 

The  plaza  at  Herencia.  The  fonda  spoken  of  in  the 
text  is  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  picture.  A 
boy,  followijig  the  old  custotn,  which  ivas  a  uni- 
versal one  until  of  latCj  runs  to  kiss  the  hand  of  a 

prii'st  he  jfiittSf  ......   J'^-^ 

A  eorncr    of  the   court-yard   in    the  fonda   of   Alcazar 

de  San    fuan,  -cohere  the  grapes   ready  for  ivine- 

making  are  heaped  up,  .....  124 

The  facade  of  the  fonda  at  Alcdsar  de  San  Juan,  .  1 23 
A  hit  of  Alcazar  de  San  fuan,  .  .  ■  -  I2(y 

On  the  outskirts  of  Alcazar  de  San  Juan,  the  beginning 

of  the  road  to   Crijitano,  a  water-pedler   in   the 

foYe(rromui,  behind  him  a  characteristic  wayside 

sanctuary, 

Ajutamiento  [City  Hall),  Alcazar  de  San  Juan, 
In  the  Ajutamiento  Tower,  Alcazar  de  San  Juan, 
The  wind-mills  of  Crijitatw,  as  seen  from  the  distance,  . 
One  of  the  anciefit  zuind-tnills  of  Crijitano, 

xxi 


^35 


\ 


List   of   Illustrations 


ratrr 


A  typical  bit  of  scenery  at  the  tnills  of  Criji/auo, 

An  episode  of  the  artist's  Joitrney  :  On  approaching 
Crijitano,  .....•• 

Sketched  in  one  of  the  upper  streets  of  Crijitano,  a  typi- 
cal arriero  in  iJieJoreground,         .... 

Episode  oj  the  artist's  journey :  The  entrance  in  Cam- 
i>o  de  Crijitano,  behind  his  escort  of  Guardias 
Civ  lies,       ....'•'  14^ 

The  distribution  of  bread  to  mendicants^  a  daily  occur - 

rence  of  Campo  de  Crijitano  [In  accordance  li/ith 
a  legacy  left  over  a  hundred  years  ago  to  a  church 
by  which  a  certain  amount  of  money  has  to  be  ex- 
pended in  giving  bread  to  the  sick,  cripples,  or  7'ery 

aged  poor  of  the  tocatity),       .....    14^ 
Fagade  of  a  house  at  Campo  de  Crijitano,   dating  back 
to  the  Moorish  occupation.      All  its  details  and  the 
loiver porch,  supported  by  columns,  are  distinctively 

Jifoorish,      ......-•  ^-/J* 

A  corner  of  the  pla::a,  Campo  de  Crijitano,  the  church's 

principal  entrance  on  the  left,       ....  144 

View  of   Toboso  from    the  plain,  with  the  big,  squat 

ehurch'iower  sfwken  of  in  "  Don  (luixote;'  .       ,  146 

The  entrance  of  the  posada  at  Toboso,          .         .          •  /-// 
A  street  of  Toboso,  a  pedler  selling  honey  in  the  fore- 
ground,      ....••••  ^j^ 

A  street  of  Toboso, O'^ 

The  plaza  at  Toboso,  the  church  on  the  left,  .  .  132 

An  episode  of  the  artisfs  journey  :    Guardias  Ciznles, 

in  search  of  a  robber,  making  an  investigation,      .  /JJ 

xxii 


List   of   Illustrations 


A  bit  in  Toboso, 1^7 

The  kitchen  of  the  posada  in  Toboso,  ....  i^q 
The  well  in  tJie  court -yard  of  the  ^''posada''''  at  To- 
boso, .........  160 

Maria,  one  of  the  daughters  of  the  "  amo''  of  the  po- 
sada, Toboso,      .......  lOj 

Posada,   Toboso  :     Detail  of  staircase,  ivith  c7iar?ni/i^- 

ly  turned  baluster,         ......   i6j 

Posada,  Toboso:   Entrance  to  the  luine-cellar ,       .  .  i66 

f liana,  the  other  dajtghter  of  the  ^^  amo"  of  the  po- 
sada, Toboso,       .......  1 67 

Pickifig  saffron  floiuers.  As  in  Arab  countries  the 
women  do  the  work,  the  man  being  a  sort  of  over- 


seer. 


i6q 


The  laborers''  lunch  at  harvest-time  in  a   ^^  quint e- 


ria. 


171 


The  Sierra  Morena,from  the  station  of  Almuradicl, 
Doha  Teresa  washini^^,      ..... 

The  Sierra  Morena,from  the  plateau  between  Almura- 
dicl and  Viso,     .  .  .         .  .         .  .  /// 

Episode  of  the  artisfs  journey  :  Arrival  of  the  travel- 
ler's cavalcade  in  view  of  Almuradicl,  .         .  //^ 

A  bit  of  Kl  Viso,  .......   iSj 

AfigJtel  de  Ceruantes  y  Saavedra.  The  traditional 
face  zuhich  is  held  in  Spain  to  be  that  of  Cervantes, 
although  there  is  no  evidetice  to  prove  it,  and,  on 

the  contrary,  strong  evidence  to  disprove  it  {It  is 
doubtful  if  any  contemporary  portrait  of  Cervantes 


exists), 


iSs 


xxm 


List  of  Illustrations 


List  of  Illustrations 


A  corner  of  the  patio,  Casa  Teresa,  El  Visa,         .  .  iS6 

In  a  Manchegan  boys'  school, ^^^ 

Episode  of  the  artist's  journey :  Scene  in  the  Venta  dc 

Cardenas^  .......  JQ^ 

Episode  of  the  artisfs  journey  :  The  departiire  of  the 
artisfs  party  from  El  Viso  for  an  excursion  to 
the  fnountain-garden  spoken  of  in  the  text,     .  .  IQ- 

The  Sierra  Morena,   from    the    plateau    behind    El 

Viso, .  •  ^PJ* 

A  characteristic  bit  of  the  central  fftassif  of  the  Sierra 

Morena,  7iear  the  Venta  de  Cardenas,  .         .  /p^ 

Lnnch  in  the  little  garden  of  the  mountain,  .         .  ig? 

E{)mdn  of  tk  artists  journey  :  Depicting  (he  inci- 

dents  which  defcl  his  party  on  the  way  to  and  from 
Los  Molinos,      .         .         .         19^,  ^01,  20J,  20^,  206 
Type  of  arriero  "  on  the  road,  ....  208 

The  peak  of  the  Fanero,  one  of  the  bleak  mountains  en- 
circling Los  Molinos,  .....  2og 
Episode  of  the  artist' s  journey  :   Departure  from  Santa 
Cruz  de  la  Mudela.       The  fnule  in  the  foreground 
has  the   characteristic  pack-saddle    used   in    the 

mountain  country,         ......  2^0 

Episode  of  the  artist' s  journey  :    A  scene  at  the  Venta 
de  Cardenas.      The  Maritornes  presiding  over  the 
cooking.     In  the  background  a  set  of  dangerous- 
looking '' arricros,''         ....         220,221 

An  episode  of  the  artisfs  journey  :  Alarmed  at  the 
roughness  of  manners  and  bad  looks  of  a  band  of 
"  arrieros  "  which  they  found  at  the  Venta  de  Car- 

x.xiv 


f 


Page 
denas,  the  members  of  the  party  decided  to   spend 

the  nig  Jit  in   the  open  near  the  lonely  biiilding  of 

ihe  station,   where,  under  the  watch  of  their  two 

Guardias  Civiles,  they  felt  more  secure  than  in  the 

"  venta, ''^ 22^ 

The  famished  toreros,  watching  the  stranger  eating,    .  224 

The  toreros, 22s 

Episode  of  the  artisfs  journey  :    Night  scene  at  the 

Venta  dc  Cardenas.     The  conference  between  the 

guardias  and  the  little  party ^  whefi  a  hasty  de- 
parture luas  decided  upoti,  ....  226 
The  fakirs  comi?ig  into  the  Venta  de  Cardenas,  .  22S 
The  fakirs'  siesta   in  the  Venta  de  Cardenas,     In  the 

foregroufid   a    Jiand    laax'ing-    the    ]\fanche^afi  fty 
flcip,  .  .  ......    22Q 

NigJit  scene  i>i  a  poPidar  resort  of  Seville,    .  .  .  2ji 

Los  Organos  in  DesPehaperros.       The  railway  on  the 

other  side  of  the  gorge  midway  up  the  motintain,  2JJ 
A  detail  of  Los  Organos,    ......  2J4 

The  ^^  arriero^^  singing  a  ^^  jnalagueha,"    .         .         .  2jy 


XXV 


I 


I 


On  the  Road  to  Argamasilla 


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On  the  Road  to  Argamasilla 


1 


T  was  night  in  July,  and  I 

was  bowling  along  toward 

the  same  dreary  plains  of 

La    Mancha,    that    were    the 

scene  of  my  youthful  tramps. 

Friends   had   just   warned  me 
most  earnestly  not  to  venture 
into  that  country  of  rough,  half-savage  folk 

unless  I  secured  an  escort  of  police  from 
whose  sight  there  must  be  no  wandering, 
** for,"  they  added,  ''the  navaja  [the  knife] 
is  handv  down  there  ; "  and  the  manner  of 

their  ^^peech  was  tragic.    But  then  they  were 

Spaniards,  and  must  regard  things  in  the 
national  way — that  is,  to  revile  natives  of 
other  provinces  than  their  own,  and  more 
particularly  the  inhabitants  of  unlovely  La 
Mancha,  the  most  backward  region  of  Spain. 
With  occasional  sleepy  glances  into  the 
future  (I   was  stretched   on  the   long  seat  of 

an  empty  carriage),  mingled  a  shiftmg  con- 
sciousness of  the  adieux  of  the  people  of  the 


On   the   Rnad   to    Aiuania^iila 

Madrul  hoMclrv  -d()Lil)l\'  corduil  in  cxprcta- 
tion  of  a  promised  reward  for  the  safe-keep- 
iniX  of  the   lui'^ao^e   left   with   them    -of  ihe 

drive  throtigjli  the  narrow  streets  to  the  sta- 
tion lookin_i{  all  the  way  at  the  Madrilenes, 
out  for  the  freshness  of  the  evening;.  They 
little  knew  how  o^lacl  I  was  to  be  amon^-  them 

lyiTciin  and  how  deH.irhtful  was  to  me  the  ani- 
mated spectaele  of  their  streets.  I  remember 
distinetly  in  a  little  |)laza,  over  whose  miser- 
able pavements  my  rieketx^  earriao:e  went 
bumpinor  in  unexpected  and  distressmo:  fash- 
ion, the  candle-liL^hted  l)ooth,  frail  affair  of 
wood  and  paper,  where  I  stopped  to  buy 
delicious  orani^cs  for  next  to   a  smile   from 

a  swarthy  woman  dressed  m  rag^s,  her  hair 
a-tano:le  but  w^Ith  the  condescendlnor  nian- 
ners  of  a  prhicess. 

In  the  station,  stiff  and  :n^loomy,  a  por- 
ter, loaded  wnth  a  tiny  packa^^e,  my  one 
change  of  hnen,  preceded  me  with  diijnified 
steps  and  throwing  open  the  door  of  a  fust- 
class  carriag^c  with  a  bans:  that   re-echoed  all 

over  the  place  seemed  thus  to  apprise  (on- 
lookers of  the  fact  that  here  was  indeed  a 
lordly  person,  one  who,  in  spite  of  his  dimin- 
utive lui^gagc,  could  afford  the  luxury  of  the 


On   the  Ivoad  to  Arefamasilla 


liv^ 


>..-  •  -  r 


best.  There  are  always  lookers-on  a!  the 
departure  of  a  train  in  Si)ain.  Travelling  is 
such  an  unu- 
sual and  risky 
p  roe  ee  d i n  g 
that  famil\'  and 
f  1'  i  e  n  d  s    feel 

called  upon  to 

t  e  s  1 1  f  \' ,      by 

their  presence, 

their     concern 

in      the      |)eril- 

ous  undertakins:.      No  doubt  prayers  are    in- 

dulged    in    for   weeks  previously,    letters    are 

sent  beforehand  informing:  all  of  the  fateful 

e\'ent.  K,ven  after  the  ofreat  dav  has  come 
and  gone,  how  can  the  houseliold  or  the  little 
circle  of  friends  at  the  cafe  resume  the  even 
tenor  of  its  way  without  hearty  expressions 
of  cc;ncern  and  wishes  that  all  may  be  well 
with  the  adventurous  one  ? 

What    a    contrast    was   Ciudad    Real,    the 

worthy,  because  so  ycry  poor,  capital  of  La 

Mancha  ("  Imj^erial  and  the  Scat  of  tlic 
God  of  5miles,"  as  Cervantes  termed  it), 
to  the  bustling  New  York    I    had   left  but 

twelve  days  before.     In  the  early  morning;, 


On  the  Road  to  Arganiasilla 


pure  and  fresh,  the  crvstalHnc  ma.irniticence 

of  the  pale  green  sky  brought  out  in  Strong 
relief  the  insignificance  of  the  little  town 
and  its  rambling  low  houses.      The  bareness 

of  the  whitewashed  \valls  was  made  mOYC  eHV 
phatie  here  and  there  by  some  iron-Screened 
window,  or  a  door  bristling  with  nads  and 
ornate  locks  and  hinges.  All  was  strangely 
quiet  in  the  long,  narrow,  unpaved  street 
which  led  into  the  heart  of  the  little  town 
and  the  same  oppression  of  silence  so  strd.- 

ini^^  in  Arab  eities  falls  upon  the  travelka-. 

Indeed  La  Maneha  is  Moorish,  eountry  and 
people.  The  Moors  liave  left  their  thumb- 
mark,  the  traces  of  their  U)ng  domination, 
on  the  aspect  of  the  towns  and  the  physiog- 
nomy of  the  people,  not  less  than  on  the 
character  and  temperament  of  the  inhabi- 
tants and  their  social  and  domestic  relations. 

It  was  Aral)  hospitality  of  the  best  kind 

that  awaited  mc  as  I  knocked,  a  stranger  at 
an  unseemly  hour,  at  the  house  of  the  father 
of  Carlos,  the  friend  I  had  just  left  in  Paris. 
Everythino;  was  done  to  make  Carlos's  friend 
feel  at  home,  and  my  new  ac(|uaintances 
proved  so  much  more  helpful  than  our  na- 
tional representatives  in    Madrid    had    been 


On   the   Road   to   .Vigamasilla 


that  by  ten  o'eloek  1  was  able  to  eontinue 
nn-  journey,  liaving  in  my  possession  an  or- 
der from  the  governor  of  the  provinee  that 
I  should  be  furnished  with  an  escort  of 
mounted  pohce  wherever   1    might  wish  dur- 

in<^  mv  travels. 

The  train  erawled  along  in  an  Afriean 
landscai)e.  The  plain,  with  vegetation  the 
color  of  its  soil,  stretched  out  in  supreme  deso- 
lation under  the  blue  sky  filled  with  the  cruel 
majesty  of  tiie  noonday  sun.  No  settlement, 
no  houses,  nor  any  signs  of  life  enlivened  this 

torrid  desert  till  on  the  |)ath  runnin^^  beside 

the  track  some  brown  si)ccks  came  bobbing 
up  and  down    toward    us  — a   characteristic 


x^ 


1/ 


mmm 


■  •  /• 


.  / 


., '    \^<yv■,-■^ 


\.^ 


\r 


On   tlu'    Road  to   Ariz\iina: 


Oil  Lhc  Rudd  lu  Araaniasilla 


group;  ahead  the  man  nn  rlonk(n--lKK  k,  his 
lc£i'S  daniz'hnir,  his  head  tiirow  n  haek  and  a 
o-hmnier  at  his  open  lips.  k^oHowini'"  on  loot 
came  the  woman,  with  lonir,  swino-inrr  strides 

tliat  sent  her  heavv  skirts  flying  in  ih\  ihnii- 
cal  and  recurrino-  fokls.  A  voun^;  clonkcn^ 
wandered  behind  his  ckini  in  his  own  swert, 
fitfid  fashion,  all  ready  to  scamper  in  case  of 
pursuit. 

It  was    a    mekmeholv    contrast    of    sexes, 
wiiich  the  woman  did  not  realize.     More  mel- 

ancholy  perhaps  was  the  contrast  between 

the  man  and  the  l)east  he  bestrode,  which 
k)oked  as  if  each  weary  step  woukl  be  its  last. 
Spanish  owners  of  l)easts  of  burden,  knowini^ 
the  very  last  notch  of  fati.i!;ue  and  hunoer 
their  poor  drud<res  can  reach,  keep  them  re- 
lentlessly there,  thus  gettino-  the  most  work 
for  the    least    expense.      But  they  shrewdly 

allow  the  younir  ones  to  .irrow  in  freedom 

and  comparative  plenty  so  as  to  be  strong- for 
the  ordeal  to  come. 

The  wavfarers  had  nearlv  |)assed,  the  man 

sinirhio;  at  the  top  of  his  voice  and  lookinii* 
stralofht  before  him,  when  the  woman  turned 
her  eacrle's  profile  with  a  sharp  motion  and 
gave  us  a  long  blinkini^  glance.      In  all  prob- 

8 


f 


\ 


ly 


■^^:^-P 


■>•» 


ability  she  had  never  travelled  on  the  cars 

and  never  woukk  and  the  poor  creature  must 
have  l)een  marvehing  in  her  dumb  way  why 
people    should  wander  so   far  afield  instead 

of  stavin^r  where  thev  were  born.  The  little 
donkey's  retlections  were  as  plainly  written 
on  his  countenance  as  if  they  had  been 
uttered  in  pure  Castilian  as  he  stood  a  mo- 
ment, an  expressive  silhouette,  staring  in  be- 
wilderment. "  Demonios  !  what's  that  infer- 
nal machine  about?"  was  his  conclusion, 
whereu])on    he    whirled    around    and    scam- 

l)ered  off,  Hinging  his  four  legs  in  as  many 

directions. 

There  was  a  chano:e  of  trains  at  Manzan- 
ares,  a  settlement  which   in   spite  of  its  an- 

9 


H-.':  Ifl  '^i 


:i  jC^ft3^i?|3^W-£^" 


r^/- 


:\ 


//  .V//7V/  VohUr. 


On  the  Road  to  Areramasilla 


;->' 


tiquity  and  of  its  poetical  name,  looks  a  hand- 
ful of  houses  scattered  hap-hazard  on  the 
bare  soil,  like  children's  blocks  in  a  nursery 
corner.      However,   it   is   alive   and   has   one 

of  the  hnest  distilleries  (bodegas)  of  Spain, 
where  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  peasant 
workmen  eating  their  lunch  in  a  clean  mod- 
ern-built shed  by  a  row  of  formidable  jars, 
each  of  which,  I  was  told,  held  some  twelve 
hundred  gallons  of  wine.  To  this  day,  as  in 
the  time  of  Cervantes,  these  jars  of  })orous 
clav  are  cxclusivelv  manufactured  in  Toboso 

forever  enshrined  in  the  Imagination  of  all 
lovers  of  romance  as  the  home  of  Duleinea, 
the  one  true  love,  ardent  though  ])latonic,  of 
the  last  and  most  celebrated  of  knights  er- 
rant. Hrick-yards  1  saw  and  the  many 
chalk  mills,  where  gvpsum  is  ground  to  pow- 
der for  the  manufacture  of  i)laster  of  Paris, 
were  ohl-fashioned  and  slovenly.     In  o])en 

paved  areas,  scattered  everywhere  in  and 
about  Manzanares,  threshing  was  going  on 
in  the  same  primitive  way  as  in  the  days  of 

the  Moors,  the  Romans,  or  the  Iberians.    A 

band  of  donkeys,  horses,  and  mules  were 
simplv  hitched  to  a  flat  board  upon  which 
the  driver  stood  urging  his  team  round  and 

II 


On   the   Road   to   .Vro^amasilhi 


round  in  ever-narrowino^  circles  till  the  pile 
of  crrain  lav  Hat.  But  the  half-naked,  sun- 
burned  younir  drivers,  halancino-  themselves 

on  the  narrow  boards  as  if  it  were  the  easiest 
thin^  to  do  in  the  world,  looked  like  livino; 
bronzes    with    their    devil-inay-eare    air    and 

somcthini^  of  that  same  alertness,  that  poise 
and  m'ace  of  movement  one  loves  in  the  lit- 
tie  Fompeian  hi^ures. 

By  the  lonely  station-buildinix  of  Aroama- 

silla,  the  one  bit  of  life  was  the  postal-earria^e, 

a  four-wheeled  affair,  sprinj^dess,  with  insecure 
board  benehes  under  an  arch  of  plaited  straw 
covered  with  canvas.    It  was  the  hottest  part 

of  the  (lay,  and  the  hottest  dav  of  the  year, 
the  driver  said,  but  it  did  not  persuade  him 
to  spare  his  team.  At  the  incessant  crack- 
ino-   of   his  whip  the  four  horses  raced  for- 

ward  in  a  stampede,  raisinor  thiek  elouds  of 

stini^lno;  dust  which  blurred  completelv  road 
and  landscape  and  produced  the  sensation  of 
travelHnir  in  a  furnace  at  white  heat.  1  he 
coach-dog  barked,  the  board-seats  rattled, 
while  the  vehicle  creaked  and  plunged. 
Here  was  old-time  travelling  with  a  ven- 
geance. 

That   part  of   me  which  is  monopolized  by 

12 


On  the  Road  to  Argamasilla 


the  artist — I  shall  call  it  my  Quixote  self — 
rather  revelled  in  this  excess  of  local  color, 
but  my  Sancho  Panza  side,  caked  with   dirt, 

shaken  and  bruised  by  the  jolting,  was  in  a 
deplorable  condition.  .Vnd  yet  could  Sancho 
do  aught  but  endure  what  could  not  he 
heh)ed  ?  His  resigned  martvrdom  lasted  for 
an  hour,  till  a  stoj)  was  made  to  water  the 
horses.  Thereafter,  our  pace  relaxing,  occa- 
sional glimpses  could  he  had  on  either  side 
of  the  road  of  helds  of  scorched  wheat  with 

each  separate  stem  a  shining,  hrislling  spear. 
Before  us  the  village  of  .Vrgamasilla,  "hirth- 
])lace  of  Don  Ouixc^te,"  the  <ruide-l)ook  savs 
unblusiiinglv,  revealed  more  and  more  dis- 
tinctly    its    white    houses    nestled    under    the 


13 


On  the  Road  to  Argamasilla 


trees.     The  purple   Sierras,  dreamy  sentinels 

of  the  plauis,  stood  on  the  extreme  bonier 

of  the  horizon.  Above  it  all  wondertuUy 
shaped  clouds  made  against  the  azure  haek- 
ground  an  exquisite    mosaic  of    translueent 

tones. 


f 


hi 


II 

Argamasilla 


14 


I?/ 

i 


.1' 


7  i:.^--  ■••  'V''i'-^^lBr^#ii.^/ 


*-.-  .tr- 


■  ^ 


\    V   V 


y 


/  J 


.     ) 

•■•V 


1 


V. 


\ 


ll( 


The  A  mo. 


\\\ 


■ 


6 


% 


Argamasilla 


li 


^^" 


WE   entered  the 
pueblo  with 

cracking- whip. 

Not  a  soul  was  to  be 
seen  until  the  solitary, 
slouchy  ii,(rure  of  the 
inn-  k  eeper  e  m  e  r  o;  e  d 
from  under  the  mat 
eoverinor  the  door  of 
the  posada — A!  Para- 

aor   del    Lar^ficn,    Casa 
(-rrroorio.  Grecrorlo, 

%.  .  *    hardly   able    to    cx|)ress 

''  his  astonishment  at  the 

unusual  sioht  of  a  pruest,  looked  at  the  horses 
and  said  nothinor.  Rut  the  driver  kindly  vent- 
ured an  introduction,  ''He  is  for  you,  Gre- 
o:()ri()."    -  Vcs,"  I  added,  "and  for  some  time. 

1  h()i)e,  Don  (xrecrorio.  If  I  may  have  a  bed 
in  vour  house."  A  ''don  "  weU  placed  never 
fads  to  please  a  Spaniard,  even  if  he  be  that 
most  independent   and  despotic  of  l)eings — 


Argamasilla 


i.*^" 


hi. 


It  ( 


ail  inn-kccper  of  low  onUr.  "Of  course, 
Scnor,  and  why  not ''.  "  and  upon  ihcsc  sli<^ht 
[ireliminarics  I  followed  Greo^orio  under  the 
Straw  curtain. 

Mv  first  look  at  the  Parador  tlel  Carmen 
did  my  Quixote  self  ^<rood,  for  it  was  the 
most  picturesque  place  imaginable.      Here  at 

last  1  had  })luno:ecl  Irom  civilization  and 
nineteenth  eentury  to  the  condition  of  an- 
cient days,  and  apparently  reached  holtom. 
"Apparently,"  is  said  advisedly,  for  later  on 
1  was  to  see  ininiiteU'  moie  j)riniltlve  scenes. 
However,  this  lirst  sensation  at  })assing  from 
the  outside  o^lare  to  that  smellv,  pur|)lish 
interior,  comfortless  hut  plentiful  of  (jueer, 
cHrty  features,  was  intense. 

After  tiie  inannciof  its  ancestor,  the  Moor- 
ish caravanserai,  this  {)osa(hi.  hke  all  others, 
was  composed  of  a  series  of  irregular  con- 
structions built  rnouncl  a  court\-ard.  In  the 
room  in  which  I  found  mvself  the  life  of  the 
place  centred.  Walls  and  pillars  rose  in 
confusion    and    arches    oj)cncd    unexpected 

vistas  into  dirty,  odorous  em|)tiness,  streaked 
by  stray  blades  of  sunlight.  Overhead  close 
rows  of  l)lackened  tiee-trunks,   forminir  the 

ceiling,  were  concealed  under  cobweb  o-ar- 


15 


!■ 
' 


I 


01 


UJ 


"t- 


.ff" 


Ik 


I 


■Si 


f 


h 


If 


I*  t 


Argamasilla 


■.^:^t- 


^^^-v^!^ 


M\ 


■3> 


.  i:\>  rtU   >  ujfe. -^  -  ^  .7g  ■  ~  ^J.^-iEr^— " 


■y    f 


lands,  and  Hundreds 
of  tlics  droned  a  cease- 
less, loud  murmur 
like  the  strino^s  of  a 
symphony,  broken  in 
upon  by  recurrent 

snores   from    limp 

bodies  coiled  in  corners  on  the  bare  earth 
and  by  the  sharp,  insistent  munching^  of  the 
mules  at  their  foraije  in  the  stables. 

Followinir  Greoforio  upstairs  I  hastilv  ar- 
rano;ed  for  the  cxclusix'c  use  ot  a  little  whilr- 
washed  room,  htted  with  tlircc  bed^  witli 
bulky   mattresses  rolled   on   the    boards — for 

here  spring's  are  unknown,  of  eourse — at  the 
exorbitant  price  of  ten  cents  a  day — it  was 
policy  to  propitiate  this  man  Greirorio,  the 
a^;u),  the  soul  of  this  establishment  —  and 
then  hurried  down  again  to  enchantment  ! 

20 


Argamasilla 


But  my  Panza,  rising  in  his  might,  insisted 
on  something  more  substantial  than  sensa- 
tions which  he  thought  were  not  to  be  in- 
dulged in  on  an  empty  stomach.  Unfeel- 
ingly I  had  to  disturb  the  ajiio,  who,  seated 
on  a  stone  bench,  his  head  between  his  hands 

and  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  was  evidently 


L 


\ 


% 


I  ■ 

4  / 


wondering  what  manner  of  man  was  this 
stranger,  dressed  as  a  countryman,  but  wdth 
a  queer   stamp   which    he   was   unable    to  lo- 


21 


Aroramasilla 


catc.  Panza  felt  elated  at  the  answer  that  it 
might  be  possible  to  have  something  to  eat. 
"  W^hat  can  I  have  then,  auio  ?  "  I  contin- 
ued. '' Dc  todo  (Of  everything),  Seiior," 
elusive    abbreviation    for    "of    all    that    you 

brincr,  "  and  I  had  brou^^lit  nothinor.  The 
fates  were  kind,  however,  for  with  the  help 
of  three  females,  a  boy,  and  an  old  dilapidated 
character,  a  sort  of  buffoon,  the  cojo^  ncces- 
sarv  functionarv  of  all  posadas,  whose  duties 
are  to  run  errands,  amuse  the  household  and 
be  the  butt  of  its  jokes,  a  com|)licatcd  tor- 
tilla was  slowly  manufactiuTd.     In  a  little 

dark  room,  the  key  of  whose  carefullv  locked 

^__rz'  ^lo^H"  dandled  at 

his  belt,  the  anio 

went    to    fetch 

the  inerrcdients 
which  composed 
it  —  eo:ir^,  pota- 
toes,    onioim, 


<#^ 


v-VS^^- 


herbs,  and  ham, 

besides  I   know 

not  what.  When 

it  was  finally  served  on  a  bench  and  famished 

Panza    seated    before    it,    every    one    came 

slouching  by.      Was  it  that  the  strong  odor 


22 


Ariramasilla 


>^--=> . 


^4-^- 


of  crude  olive-oil  was  too  attractive  to  be 
resisted  or  that  the  unusual  spectacle  of  a 
man  eating  with  fork  as  wxdl  as  with  knife 
could  not  be  missed  ?  Whatever  it  may 
have    been,    they,    not  ^.^ 

unlike  a  pack  of  small 
doo;s  watching  another 
doii:  munch  his  t)one, 
sat  or  stood  around 
observing  each  disap- 
pearing morsel  till  the 
oppression  of  these 
glillerin^^  eyes  stead- 
fast Iv  fixed  on  mv 
movements  made  me 
feel     that     something 

was  expected  and  must 
be  done.  I  had  not  failed  to  offer  a  share  of 
mv  tortilla  to  one  and  all  before  touching  it, 
and  now  the  psychological  moment  had  come 

which  must  transform  the  silent  watchers  in- 
to friends,  or  else  life  would  be  a  failure  for 
the  next  few  days.  With  my  best  manner  I 
offered  a  draught  of  my  wine  around.  It 
was  refused,  a  customary  denial,  that,  though 
croinir  arainst  the  irrain,  is  nevertheless  re- 
ligiously  practised  by  high  and  low.     A  sec- 

23 


^,<'3-::^«*^^,,j  Wf  v-" 


V^\ 


fe 


Arsramasilla 


ond  and  more  familiar  offer,  "  Widios,  vauios 
Iwmbrcs^'  ("Come  on,  men"),  brouuhl  eaeh 
one  to  the  mark.    Then  as  the  i)io;-skin  bottle 

passed  from  hand  to  hand  the  i)laee  beeamc 

alive.  Cigarettes  were  lit,  remarks  ventured, 
questions  asked  and  answered,  and  the  song 
of  the  Hies  became  but  a  distant  accom- 
paniment to  human  voices  as  the  world  of 
Argamasilla  began  unfolding  itself  before 
me. 

Verv  like  our  world  it  was,  vet  character- 

istic  in  a  hundred  little  and  bio;  ways.  I'he 
manner  of  those  half  Moors,  who  like  tlie 
natix'es  of  southern  Ital\'  are  born  for  tiness- 
ino;,  and  love  to  reach  their  ends  b\'  slow, 
roundabout  approaehes,  was  hue  to  wateh. 
After  learnlnir  what  they  alreadv  knew,  that 
I  was  a  stranix<^'r  (a  term  whieh  applies  to  cUi) 
one  not  a  Mancheg-an)  they  dangled  a  va- 
riety of  halt  tliat  should  tempt  nie  to  cUsclose 
what  manner  of  man  I  was  and  what  1  had 
come  for.  One  i machines  that  if  cats  could, 
they  would  talk  in  just  the  wav  these  ])eo[)le 
did — slowly,  with  the  same  impcrturbal)le 
glare  in  their  fixed,  brilliant  eyes.  Fiirura- 
lively  speaking,  these  muleteers  and  inn  folk 

ventured  cautiously  one  paw  here,  one  there, 

-4 


Ariiamasilla 


retreated,  advanced,  till  enough  facts  having 
been  secured,  the  pretty  game  ended.  Then 
having  learned  what  I  wished  to  do,  every- 


\.> 


\ 


X 


one  fell  to  o-ivincT  me  the  benefit  of  his  ideas 
and  experiences.  The  most  interesting  were 
those  of  the  chief  courtier  of  the  avio  ;  a 
worthless,  lazy  chap,  marked  out  by  a  greasy 
old   cap   sporting  the   fatidical  initials  of  the 

bull  ring,   P.  D.  T.  (^plaza  dc  toros^^  which 

25 


Armmasilla 


proclaimed  the  wearer  a  lover  and  connois- 
seur of  the  great  game. 

"  Ves,  Senor,  Don  Ouixote  was  a  funn\- 
chap.  It's  a  orreat  book  thoug^h  and  known 
to  the  whole  world,  even  to  the  heathen  and 
to  the  English  and  the  others.  1  read  it  and 
found  it  droll  readini^,  but  the  best  of  it  I 
did  not  get.  There  is  much  in  it  for  persons 
of  learninsf.  Thev  all  sav  who  know  that 
the  science  of  the  world  is  there,  and  that 

when  you  understand  it  \'OU  can  i;et  as  rieli 
as  you  want.  But  I  am  ignorant  and  was 
only    amused.        Don     Ouixote    was    a     very 

ridiculous  fellow  surclv  !  Think  of  his  tak- 
ing those  wenches  at  the  venla  for  castle 
maidens  !    Jcsii.  what  an  ass  he  was  1 " 

"  And  Sancho,  vou  say  ?     Well,  lie  i^  like 

you  and  me,  he  wants  lo  cat  and  sleep  aiul 

crct  aloiiu"  with  evcrvbodv  in  a  nice  wav.  Ikii 
then  I  don't  know  the  book.  There  is  some- 
thinor  in  it  I  can't  ir^'t  hold  of  which  makes 
priests  and  the  like  read  it  over  and  over. 
Don  Federicro,  a  lawyer,  who  lives  now  in 
Madrid,  says  there  is  not  another  book  like 
it,  so  full  of  politics  and  everything." 

''  Si,  Senor,  Ar^amasilla  is  full  of  OuixOte. 
There  Is  his  portrait  in  the  church,  and   his 

26 


~^~^'  St^-Nilf^Bl  I     "  Ui,i    ,U\    ^^  =•- 

-T«^  >?/  v^/.,. 


:^j 


1^  'iviJ:^*^-^ 


J^=S:3-'---" 


(9w^  of  tJw  Rare   Good   l^iiius  of  tJio    Woiuoi. 


Argamasilla 


house  was  torn  down  only  a  short  time  ago, 
and  here  is  the  gentleman  (a  general  bow  of 
the  company  to  the  citified-looking  young 
man  who  then  entered  the  place)  who  has 
installed  a  fine  bodega  on  its  site,  as  perfect 
a  bodeo:a  as  you  have  seen  in  Madrid.  And 
we'll  show  you  also  the  prison  where  Cer- 
vantes wrote  the  book," 


VS»^-'A 


''It 


h. 


^^^;v^^2^_f, 


t^ 


A  moderate  distribution  of  wine  brou.iiht 
a  score  of  idlers  and  notal)les,  who  kept  up 
the   discussion   on   Quixote.       And  in  such 


25 


Argamasilla 


pleasant  manner  the  rest  of  the  dav  was 
passed.  Late  in  the  evening  I  sat  with  the 
anio  in  the  darkness  outside  the  door,  under 

the  sombre,  la})is-lazuli  sky  clustered  with 
stars.  A  trembling:  murmur,  like  the  heav- 
ing of  a  calm  sea,  intensified  all  accidental 
noises,  the  barking  of  dogs,  the  jingling  of 

the  bells  of  the  mules  hurryino:  to  their 

nio^ht's  shelter.  A  laborer  cominir  home 
from  the  helds  ])assed  at  a  gait,  which 
one  felt  to  be  rapid,  though  the  sound  of 

his  footstei)s  was  deadened  in  the  dust.  He 
sang  with  a  rich,  full,  uncultivated  voice,  a 
sono;  of  Andalusia,  one  of  those  Malao-uchas 
which  arc  rei)lacing  the  distinctive  provin- 
cial songs  all  over  the  penmsula.  Kaeh  verse 
was  a  complete  musical  r>lii''^^<-\  given  as  a 
trill  and  ending  in  a  loni^-'^ustained  guttural 
minor  note,  and  there  were  long  pauses  be- 
1  wcf n  the  verses. 

Nor  with  thee,  nor  without  thee, 
Have  my  troubles  any  remedy; 

Willi  ilice,  because  thou  killest  nie, 

Aiitl  wiihuuL  thee,  because  I  die  of  it. 


The    voice,  alternatelv   crying    and     siiLrhing, 
kept   its  male  ring,  while  the  pathetic  words 


29 


Arcramasilla 


^  f^^-  ■ 


>-^'^: 


•<^^ 


I 


^z 


i;"^ 


R/=.V 


%■■  -1 


;''.:^'-- 


■4' 


jt 


.55 


^ 


5 


K 


were  flunor  Into  space  with  the  most  passion- 
ate expression.  It  was  like  the  nio-htinQ-ale's 
song,  as  impulsive,  as  harmonious  with  the 
scene  and  hour,  and  long  after  the  voice  had 
died  out  in  the  distance  mv  nerves  kept  vi- 
brating to  the  inexpressibly  wild  melody  as 
if  the  very  silence  was  still  full  of  the  echoes 
of  this  riot  of  feeling. 

Turnincr  in  at  about  ten  the  son  of  the 
aiuo,  eighteen  years  old,  is  stretching  him- 
self on  the  floor  over  which  he  has  spread 
his  mantle.     Under  his  head  by  way  of  pillow 

i^  llic  harness  of  liis  mules.    '*  Why  duesnt 

he  slecj)  in  a  bed?"  I  inquire.  "It's  no 
use,"  savs  the  amo.  ''  At  niidnigrht  he'll  have 
to  go  lo  the  fields  and  work.      Vou  see  this 

is  harvest-time  and  we  must  work  dav  and 

night."       I    found   out    that    "we"    meant 
ever\()ne  else  in  the  household  but  mv  host. 
The  following  days  gave  me  a  good  op- 

Itortunitv  to  ^ee  truly  tvpical  posada  life. 
1  he  a))io,  one  of  the  rare,  well-to-do  persons 
of  Argamasilla,  owning  vineyards  and  wheat- 
helds,  had  to  devote  his  early  mornings  and 
late  afternoons  to  overseeing  his  laborers, 
lie  would  come  back  usually  at  nine  in  the 
morning,  with    his  son  and  some  of  his  men, 


1 


Argamasilla 


Argamasilla 


who  had  l)ccn  up  and  at  work  at  the  thresh- 
ing-ground since  as  early  as  three  o'ekjck. 
All  had  then  their  first  meal  in  common. 
The   long   knives   were     unsheathed;    each 

man  proceeded  to  cut  a  thin  slice  of  hrcad, 

stuck  the  point  of  his  knife  into  it  and  used 
it  as  a  spoon  to  dip  into  the  dish  of  hard 
peas  and  cucumbers,  swimming  in  mixed  oil 
and  water,  which  was  placed  on  a  stool  in 
the  middle  of  the  group.  A  new  spoon  had 
to  be  cut  for  each  spoonful  and  much  dex- 
terity was  needed,  even  with  the  help  of  one's 

thumb,  to  secure  enouo-h  peas  on  the  Hat 
piece  of  bread.  The  a;;u:>  passed  the  wine- 
bottle  round  but  once,  the  men  induloino-  in 
it  spariuLrly.  When  a  man  had  linished,  lie 
would  \vi{)e  his  li|)S  with  the  hack  of  the 
hand,  o-et  u})  and  i^o  to  a  stand  where 
the  water-pitcher  was  held,  lift  it  and,  liold- 
ing  it  at  arm's  length,  take  a  lono-  drau^dit 

then  lIorhtin<2:  his  cigarette,  he  woukl  be  off 
to  work  aorain.  What  a  frucral  diet  \  No 
wonder  these  peasants  arc  such  hcalthv  creat- 
ures, solid  and  limber,  that  tliev  walk  with 
an  elastic,  light  step  and  in  repose  seem 
ever  ready  to  move,  suddenly,  without  ef- 
fort— the  whole  body  ready  to  spring.     Our 


I 


.'V 


i 

X 


\ 


/'. 


-*V'>~^ 


nOhons  of  S})anish  indolence  are  true  enough 
of  the  ''classes,"  but  the  peasants  are  as 
hard-working  a  people  as  can  be  found  any- 
where, i)erforming  their  work  on  fare  which 
not  even  the  poorest  Italians  would  fnid 
sufficient. 

Durinor  the  warm  hours  the  ajno  remained 


J* 


Aroramasiila 


-71 


l^'^^ 


:^f  ^ii!-i 


•i;^*:^    -^t      -^'.ih         ■ 


-v«if" 


E? 


T   v>^3^^' 


^tT=. 


/"  .-%^ 


A 


f 


at  home.  A  couple  of  jxirasites  kept  him 
companx-.  smiled  at  his  jokes  and  feasted 
on  his  sententious  wisdom.  While  I  was 
stayinor  there  Orecrorio  made  himself  a  pair 
of  shoes  and  his  friends,  enjovinir  the  rare 
opportunity,  sat   and  watched  admirinirlv  the 


34 


f 


Arofaniasilla 


progress  of  the  work,  occasionally  indulging 
in  a  bit  of  dialogue,  but  the  sturdiness,  the 
sombre  side  of  the  national  character  would 
reveal  itself  in  protracted  periods  of  silenee 

and  repose  when  the  cigarettes  alone  were 
alive.  The  fact  that  Gres^orio  was  doinof 
somet hi nir  became  known  in  the  neiofhbor- 
hood,  and  other  idlers  would  come  and  join 
the  circle  from  time  to  time  and  marvel  how 
the  woithv  man  did  his  work  so  well.  Oc- 
casionally   one   of  the  group   would  get    up, 


■■^::.^-:.'-r^ 


Argamasllla 


wiping-  his  foreheaci,  to  have  a  drink  of  water 
from  the  bottle,  with  some  kindlv^  meant 
word  to  the  foreigner — -''  God,  it's  hot, 
Seiiorl"     Flics    were   thick,   do^^s  asleep,   a 


pfirl  was  scwinir  in  a  corner  while  her  fn\'or- 
ite  cat  sat  on  a  stool  \vatching  her.  .\  strap- 
ping"  laborer  woidd  walk  in   with  a   nod  and 

al)breviated  "How  do"  toward  the  i^rou]) 
and  disappear  in  the  stable.  Were  it  not  for 
these  happenings  the  posada  wuidd  luue 
been  as  quiet  as  the  town. 

Upon  this  dull  backjiroiiiid  of  ihc  posada 

life  there  dehled  morning  cUid  night  all  sorts 
of  tvpes  of  muleteers — fantastic,  wild-look- 
ing fellows,  who  strode  in  and  out  silentlv^ 

with  hardlv  a  jxkmce  at  anyone.  After 
takinor  care  of  their  mules  thev  would  sit  in 
a  corner  and  eat  the  hard  bread  and  bit  of 
cheese   they  had  brought   with  them,  or  lie 

down  to  sleep  anywhere  on  the  hare  soil, 
with  no  covering  over  them  and  but  a  con- 
venient stone  for  a  pillow. 

The  women-folk,  mother  and  two  daugh- 
ters, were  left  strictly  alone.  The  ama  had 
charcfe  of  the  cookincr,  the  inorredients  for 
which  were  cfiven  to  her  l)v  her  husband 
after  a  good  deal  of  noisv  bickering,  he  claim- 

36 


Argamasilla 


/  ■-,  •.  <!^V- 


^fiHl* : 


•i|l..-.!:\v\   >^>;S^ 


.r^/ 


w\ 


■f6 


nOA^  RODRJi;0    J)F.     J\l  CI/ECO. 

7-V<'w    iJu-  pai}tt'm^:^-   in    tJic    Cluurh    of  A rgnmasi/Za. 

m  ttkit  she  did  not  make  the  best  of  what 

he  grave,  she  that  he  never  o;ave  her  enoucrh. 
The  daughters,  modest  girls  of  pleasing  looks, 
were  working  all  the  time,  helping  in  the 
kitchen,  keeping  the  three  guest-rooms  in 
order  (when  said  rooms  were  occupied,  which 
was  not  often),  fetching  water  from  the  well, 
sprinkling  the  premises,  or  sewing.     Twas 

37 


I 


all  woik  and  no  \)\av  with  ih(;m  liii1c>s,  once 
in    a   while,   thev  induijj^ed    in    (]uiet    games 

with  cats  anil  puppies  wticii  the  watehfiil  e\e 

of  the  a//io  wa:^  not  on  them.  It  was  inipos- 
sil)le  not  to  sympathize  with  the  lu^ia,  poor 
old  woman,  shrivelled  and  dried  up  bv  her 

slave  life  out  of  whieh  no  eseape  was  i)ossil)le 

without  extreme  mental,  soeial,  as  well,  alasl 
as  physical  troul)les,  more  than  she  could 
bear.      But   out   of   those   sunless    days    of 

harassing  experiences  she  had  unconscious- 
ly, perhaps,  reached  the  hiprhest  point  that 
kindly  as  aixainst  eo^otistical  and  brutish  feel- 
ino^s  can  reach,  fio^htin^-  inch  bv  inch  the 
battle  of  a  good  woman  agamst  all  that  self- 
ishness and  arrogance  embodies.  vShe  knew 
the  purclv  temporarv  adxantages  she  could 
get,   that   she   could  go   no  farther,  and   that 

it  wold  I  be  easier  to  condone  and  sulier  si- 
lent K'.  I  kit  she  ke})t  on  undaunted,  stub- 
hornlv  triK"  tn  her  c;uporior  instinct,  prenrhmir 

bv  example  and  l)\'  word-  what  was  riL'bt  ^nid 
good.  I  low  slie  coinpcilci.1  my  adniuaLion 
and  m\-  respect  !  To  watch  for  a  time  such 
situations,  po\\'Lalc>>  to  help  in  the  slightest 
wav,  is  one  of  the  saddc-^t  ex])criences  of  the 


>assing  tra\'cllcr. 


38 


-;^r^;t:^=i=r:       if'iS 


-f^ 


•        "Jl 


tjii' 


^^Si?^  ^^^Siffl  lli  ^ 


His  Fai'oritc   Chair  in   the  Barl>c)'  Shop. 


Argama-illa 


The  aiiios  iTturii  ai  sunset  wa^  the  ^v^m] 

for  hupper,  Uie  niakini^  vi  wliieh  luul  its  dis- 
tinct local  thu'or.  The  kitchen  was  a  lari:e 
room,  bare  like  the  other  rooms  of  the  place 

but  lor  an  old  chest,  a  tabic,  and  the  hcanli  - 
a  square  of  low  Ijrick  lloorin^"  in  a  corner. 
Upon  this  hearth  dried-up  branches  were  set 
on  tire,  fiUinjx  the  room  and  transforming"  the 

cook  and  her 

"'^;:^^    -  assistants  into 

witches  in  the 
midst  of  some 
internal  incan- 
tation. Gre- 
gorio's  was  a 
well-to-do  fam- 
ily, h  a  \'  1  n  o 
meat  once  a 
day  durinir  the 
harvest  -  tnne. 
I  n  o  r  d  i  n  a  r  v 
t 1 m  e  s ,  of 
course,  t  h  e  v 
had  it  but  once 

a  week.  The 
meat  was  always  served  in  a  sort  of  soup. 
The    girls,    with    flowered    kerchiefs    around 

40 


1   '\* 


i'*i 


i^ 


\ 


\ 


\ 


R 


li 


!   , 


Argamasilla 


i;,Fj.:|4 


M:  m 


^ 


^1 


^^P^^: 


'~'       ' '  •'     '"     i  aHlVi'v  .'1'-'    L     "T        •  '  <i 


i    : 


V    »     |.= 


fey  H4jWt  r  i^ji-^.- 


I »     -.:- 


■  ^ER" 


^^i&m^ 


their  necks,  the  men  in  shirt-sleeves  with  red 
turban-like  rai^s  on  their  iieads,  barefooted 
all,  dip])ed  their  wooden  spoons  democratical- 
ly 111  the  same  bowl.  There  was  no  attempt 
at  conversation,  only  at  times  the  sharp  voice 
of    the    {7^uo   would    tell    some   lal)orer   to   qo 

41 


i 
t 

II  f 


t 


Argamasilla 


slow,  warning-  him  that  he  was  eatmor  more 
than  his  portion.  The  hanger-on  before 
mentioned  would  sit  against  a  pillar,  his  old 
frame  bent  over  his  staff,  and,  keeping  his 
keen,  knowing  eyes  looking  steadfastly  away 
from  the  table,  appear  perfectly  indifferent 
to  what  was  going  on.  Dogs  had  more  rights 
in  this  house  than  he  had,  poor  chap.  To- 
ward the  middle  of  the  dinner  the  a?7ia 
would  ask  him  to  join  the  circle,  whereupon 
Gregorio,  venting  his  displeasure,  would  make 
chilling  reinarks,  such  as,  ''the  door  of  the 
posada  was  as  wide  open  as  the  gates  of  the 
city,"  to  which  the  gentlemanly  fellow  wcnild 
answer,    mildly,     "  Yes,     Scfior,    and    I    hope 

manv  ^ood  things  may  come  in  throuiiii  it 

besides  dust." 

Yet  Gregorio  was  not  as  bad  as  he  seemed. 
He  was  a  variety  of  the  N'oiivcaii  richc  type, 
having  risen  from  the  huml)lest  beginninirs 
through  an  unforeseen  inherilanec,  and  pros- 
perity had  proved  too  much  for  him.  In 
spite  of  his  parvenu  arrogance  of  tlie  desire 

to  make  his  family  and  dependents  feel  that 

they  owed  their  existence  to  him,  he  was,  I 
believe,  rather  a  good  sort  at  bottom.  And, 
after  ad,  in  judging  people  so  far  removed 

42 


Areamasilla 


from  us  by  their  traditions,  education,  en- 
vironment, their  dismal  isolation  and  lack  of 
opportunities,  one  would  better  pause  before 
rendering  a  radical  judgment. 

Such  was  the  routine  of  the  days  at  the 
posada.  I  was  told  that  once  a  month,  on 
market-day,  all  was  bustle  and  movement, 
and  that  a  dance  was  sometimes  indul^^^ed  in  ; 


c? 


..i&Jk*/ 


.  i> 


•//^-"  ^' 


.< 


"My^ 


y  f  ^     -   -  ^  ;; 


but  Sundays  were  days  like  the  others,  ex- 
cept that  the  men  improved  the  chance  of 
making  coarse  remarks  about  the  women  go- 

43 


! 


Arsramasilla 


ing  to  church.  There  ^vas,  at  Ica^t  tu  me, 
mighty  little  religion  and  a  great  deal  of  su- 
perstition among  these  Argamasilla  folk.  The 
croincr  to  church  was  the  one  diversion  in  the 
terribly  monotonous,  hard  life  of  the  women, 
but  the  men  preferred  to  sit  or  stand  around 
the  square,  or  on  a  friendly  doorstep  and  in 

the  same  breath  indulge  in  sneers  at  the 
priests  and  the  Church  and  at  professions  of 
loyalty  to  "Our  Lady." 

It  is  difficult  to  get  at  the  real  feelings  of 
these  people  on  religion.  The  contrast  of 
their  poverty  and  hard-working  lives  makes 
them  distrust  the  ease  and  eomparative  plenty 
of  the  priests,  and  they  refuse  to  give  a  eent 

to  the  Church  unless  in  sickness  or  In  old 
ao-e,  as  a  sort  of  investment  for  orrcat  re- 
turns  in  this  or  the  next  world.  After  a 
fashion  of  their  own  they  have  reverential  if 
not  spiritual  notions,  but  they  can't  help  see- 
ino-  the  difference  between  the  actions  of  their 
priests  and  true  religion.  —  "  No,  Senor — they 
are  in  the  Church  to  make  a  fine  living  out 

of  it,  not  to  be  its  humble  and  devoted  ser- 
vants. Thev  won't  pray  for  us  unless  we 
pav  them  !  " 

The   Procuradores,   representatives  of  the 

44 


JkASt 


-_  V^,.   n-  ^.     ,i     -f  ,,  I     ■       •      ^. 


,-0 


1 1      •  T  " 


I 


Argamasilh 


1     -     ,  -^  ■ 


^tl'^" 


<;  ...  '• 


/i. 


•\. 


W' 


people  of  Castile,  had  .eivcn  utterance  to 

similar  fcclino^s  centuries  ao^o  : 

"  Que  no  qiiicrcn  los  villanos  ni  cl  vino  del 
Sac7^amento  si  viene  de  z'uestras  manos.'^ 

The  villeins  would  refuse  even  the  Sacra- 
mental wine  if  given  through  your  hands. 

46 


Amamasilla 


Argamasillans,  their  puchlo  having  no  in- 
dustry of  any  sort,  sul)sist  entirely  on  the 
neighhornig  countrv,  each  villairer  rentino- 
some  wheat  or  wine  fields  from  a  few 
land-owners,  an  aristocratic  family  in  jKir- 
ticular  which  owns   the   largest  i)art  of  the 

surroundnio:  district.  The  best  of  the  crop, 
not  a  percentao-c  l)ut  a  tixed  amount,  iroes  to 
the  land-owner,  who  is  thus  insured  against 
bad  crops,  the  tenant  besides  payinj^  all  the 
taxes,  which  are  heavy.  On  one  side  no 
risks  are  taken,  and  the  lack  of  income  of 
the  bad  years  is  carried  over  to   be  made   uj) 

in  the  ])rosj)erous  years  ;  thus  the  tenant  is  in 

a  perpetual  condition  of  indebtedness  to  the 
landlord,  an  indebtedness  which  keei^s  rolling 
up  with  usurious  rates  of  interest,  the  onlv 
rates  upon  which  consent  to  continuation  of 
the  lease  can  be  secured.  Landed  proprie- 
tor here,  as  in  the  Italv  of  fifty  years  ago 
(and  in  manv  districts  of  Southern   Italv  to- 

day),  means  usurer. 

This  iniquitous  svstem  is  another  proof,  if 
any  were  needed,  of  the  decadence  of  5])ain, 
the  country  where  the  communes  conquered 

their  rights  against  lords  and  kings  as  early, 
if  not  earlier,  than  in  anv  other  countrv  in 

47 


A 


roramasilla 


Europe  —  where  the  achievements  of  the 
Vaqucros  of  Asturia,  the  Ifcj-jJiandijios  of 
GaHcia,  the  Connnujicros  of  Castile,  tlie 
Agcruiaiiados  of  \^alencia,   the  Fucristas  of 

Catalonia,  lAragon,  Navarre,  and  IM:icavc  arc 

amon^  the  most  glorious  of  the  contests  for 
individual  rights  and  liberty  in  the  history 
of  human  progress.     The  poor  Manchegan 

of  to-day  is  not  so  much  unlike  the  villein  of 
feudal  times  obliged  to  pay  tribute  to  king 
and  lord,  to  grind  his  wheat  in  the  mill  and 
bake  his  bread  in  the  oven  of  his  lord ;  to 

live  in  the  ca^tle'^  shadow  with  no  right  to 

work  elsewhere.  It  is  true  that  he  can  take 
wife  or  give  his  daughter  in  marriage  with- 
out the  consent  of  a  master,  and  that  he  can 
make  his  will,  thouQfh  in  his  condition  this  is 
rather  an  empty  privileo:e. 

The  chief  glory  of  Aro:amasilla  is  the  Casa 
de  Medrano,  a  solid  stone  house,  whose  main 

portion  stands  |)rol)al)lv  in  the  same  position, 
but  for  the  decav  of  agrc,  as  when  C.Vnvantes 
was  kept  a  prisoner   in   its  cellar."      There   is 


* 


The  half-ruincd  part  of  the  house,  connected  bv  a  single  nar- 
row doorway  with  the  part  now  standing  in  g^ood   condition,  shows 

plainly  the  Moorish  influence  on  the  social  conditions  of  the  time, 
for  it  was  the  prison-like  harem  where  the  women  of  the  house 
were  kept  away  from  any  possible  intrusion. 

48 


I 


Argamasilla 


little  douht  that  this  is  the  very  place  where 
the  desio;n  of  the  book,  which  was  ''  euQ-en- 
dered  in  a  prison  "  (see  prologue  to  the  first 
part  of    Don   Quixote),  was   first   moulded. 

Some  twenty-five  feet  by  eight,  and  seven 
feet  high,  with  a  mere  hole  for  window,  this 
unhealthy  cell  is  so  dark  that  when  the  orig- 
inal door,  still  partly  standing,  with  its  iron 
clamps  and  nails,  is  closed,  it  precludes  the 
possibilitv  of  Cervantes  having  been  able  to 
write  in  it.  But  to  say  this  would  be  to  the 
Argamasillans  a  personal   insult.      Cervantes 

says    that     the  , 

book,  as  the 
*'  child  of  my 
wit,"  was  con- 
ceived in  a 
prison,  which 
satisfies  the  Ar- 
gamasillans that 

the  whole  book, 
even  the  second 
part,  written  ten 

}xars  later  than 

the  first,  was  en- 
tirely written  in  this  cellar! 

The  villages  of  New  Castile  fight  fiercely 

4Q 


/ 


',^"X,^/vt 


if-ititeM>^ 


J 


,1    ""•..•«'•*-  •      _~'^v.j^-v'      ,y'^:^j^^^.Y^^'""f''-''''^'^'^''i-^"- 


■'.'     .-.■^.!ii.«:(' ■    ',    •"X'',- ,1'     ■    ^ 


f~ 


\fM- 


.1;,:,!  ^K^^S    .i-/\»]r"/   •'         .-•C^-.. 


-ST' 


'^ 


^N 


Ar<iamasilla 


for  the  honor  of  having  given  birth  to  Cer- 
vantes or  to  his  hero.  There  are  local  tradi- 
tions used  and  invented  to  prove,  hy  long 
foolish  dissertations,  too  many  of  them  in 
printed  book  form,  that  Cervantes  and  Ouix- 
ote  did  all  sorts  of  things  in  each  of  the 
villages.  At  a  low  computation,  taking  into 
account  only  the  most  persistent  claimants, 
Cervantes  was  born  in  six  different  places. 

Vet  he  lived  unappreciated  and  In  misery. 
And  his  masterpiece,  which  has  become  the 
property  of  mankind,  and  of  whose  three  hun- 
dred editions  more  than  half  are  other  than 
Spanish,  was  for  more  than  a  century  and  a 
half  only  a  sort  of  chap-book  for  the  million. 
In  S})ain,  j^articularlv,  it  was  rcrardcd  as 
scarcely   deserving  of  attention    by  men   of 

letters.  The  recognition  of  its  worth  first 
came  from  Enprland.  "  Spain  mav  have  be- 
gotten the  child,  but  England  was  its  foster- 
mother  "   (H.   W.    Watts).     The   Spaniards 

have  since  scrambled  frantically  to  do  tardy 
justice  to  the  "  Prince  of  the' Spanish  Ce- 
niuses."     Thus  a  tribute  has  been  j)aid  in  this 

verv  spot  bv  one  of  its  children.    In  this 

same  Casa  dc  Mcdrano,  some  thirty  A'cars 
aero,    Rivadcncvra    established   a    printini'-of- 

1  o 


■J 


r 


Argamasilla 


fice  for  the  sole  purpose  of  issuing:  two  beau- 
tiful editions  of  Don  Ouixote,  and  an  Infanta 
pulled  from  the  press  the  first  sheets  of  the 
larire  edition. 

This  house,  with  its  |)recious  historical 
associations,  is  n(nv  the  af>odc  of  a  xillap^e 
personage    who   alternates  the    functions    oi 

postmaster  with  his  trade  of  eobbler.     I 

sometimes  gave  him  the  pleasure  of  leaving 
his  humble  cobbler's  l)ench  to  assume  his  im- 
portant governmental  functions  —  a  trans- 
formation he  enjoyed  as  much  as  I  did.  He 
would  receive  with  great  respect  these  mis- 
sives for  strange  countries  and  remain  ])on- 
dering  upon  the  fact  that  so  many  davs  were 

needed  to  t;peed  them  on  to  their  destination, 
and  that  Americano  postmen  should  handle 
these  letters  entrusted  to  his  faithful  hands. 
He  would  follow  them  on  their  way,  and  at 
each  new  meeting  venture  opinions  as  to  how 
far  they  had  gone,  so  that  his  gratification, 
when  about  leaving  La  Mancha  I  informed 
him  of  the  safe  arrival  of  my  first  letters,  was 

(Treat.  ''Thank  God  !  Senor,  our  postal  ser- 
vice is  perfection  !  " 

The  extraordinary  interest  manifested  in 
Cervantes  now  points  to   a  national   honor 

52 


Argamasilla 


which  each  village  tries  to  monopolize.  In 
this  country  of  contrasts,  where  the  differ- 
ences of  climate  and  surroundings  have  made 
the  peninsula  a  land  of  well-defined  provinces, 
with  distinct  habits  and  costumes  evolved 
from  the  conditions  of  each  separate  milieu, 

patriotism  is  sectional.  *'  I  am  not  a  Span- 
iard, I  am  a  Catalan,"  expresses  the  general 
attitude.      But  here,  in   La  Mancha,  villages 

53 


Argamasilhi 


are  up  in  arms  aoainst  other  villacres,  simply 
on  aecoLint  of  Cervantes.  Beyond  doubt, 
however,  it  is  proved  that  Mii^uel  de  Cervan- 
tes was  born  in  Aleala  de  Ilenares,  a  town  of 
New^  Castile,  east  of  Madrid,  and  that  in  .Vr- 
cramasilla  the  "meagre,  shrivelled,  wdiimsieal" 
child  of  his  genius  was  conecived.     There 

are  also  strong-  probabdities  of  truth  in  the 
local  claim  that  the  oriorlnal  of  Ouixote  was 
Don  Rodrigo  de  Pacheco,  one  of  the  hidalgos 
of  Argamasilla  at  the  time  of  Cervantes's  aj)- 

pearance  in  the  town  as  royal  collector  of 
taxes.      It  was  by  the  authority  of  Rodrigo 


. 


54 


Argamasilla 


that  rer\  nntes  was  imprisoned  in  the  cellar  of 
the  Casa  de   Medrano,  and    Rodrigo's   house, 

hucly  destro\cd,  corresponded   in    its  main 

l)oints  with  the  description  in  the  book.  In 
an  old  j)ainting,  whicii  is  preserved  in  the 
parish  church,  he  and  his  niece  are  kneelino^ 

before  the  Xhgm  thanking  her  for  her  as- 
sistance, as  set  forth  in  the  quaint  descrip- 
tion at  the  bottom  of  the  picture : 

Onr  Lady  appeared  to  Don  Rodrijro  de 
Pacheco  on  the  eve  of  St.  Mattheio,  hi  the 
year  1601,  and  cured  htm— who  had  prom- 
7scd  her  a  tamp  of  stiver,    and  called  day 

and  nierJlt  upon  her  in  his  great  affliction— 
of  a  great  pain  he  had  in  his  hrain  throicgh 
a  cliillincss  wliich  Iiad  fallen  i7ito  it. 

The  good  priest,  Cervantist  by  birth  and 
choice,  who  had  accompanied  me  to  the 
church,  and  who  was  pleased  at  my  interest 
in  the  picture,  diplomatically  disguising  the 

object  of  his  aro^ument  under  flowers  of  Cas- 
tdian  rhetoric,  tried  to  make  me  agree  with 
him  and  the  Argamasillans.  I  was  not  con- 
scious that  I  failed  to  realize  that  there  was 
Don  Ouixote  in  flesh  and  blood.      The   hi^rh 

55 


•^mmrm^ 


.  1^ 

I 


Argnnv.isilla 


cheek  -  bones  and  wandcrincr  eyes  seemed 
Don  OuLxote  cnouizh,  thouuh  the  sensual  full 
lower  lip   harcll}'  so.       But    later  on  1  hee.mie 

cunvinccd  that  my  enthusiasm  \va>  not  lire- 

ly  enough  dis{)laved  to  reassure  niv  new"  ae- 
quaintanec,  for  he  stuck  to  nie  duiing  mv 
stay  in  Arganiasilla,  going  so   far  as   to  often 

abandon  his  favorite  ehair  in  the  barber-shoj) 
to  convince  me  ai^^ain  and  aiiain  that  Don 
Rodrigo  was  undoubtedly  the  original  of 
Don  Quixote.      lie  had  hopes  that  on  mxn^- 

turn  home  I  should  stand  up  boldlv,  ehal- 

lenging  all-eomers  to  disprove  that  impor- 
tant faet,  and  therebv  exalt  the  fame  and 
glory  of  his  town  in  that  far-away  America, 
which,  in  spite  of  all  past  Spanish  ex|)eri- 
ences,  remains  in  the  popular  mind  a  mys- 
terious El  Dorado  with  wonderful  vegetation 
and  full  of  gold.     And  Americans,  in  spite 

of  their  queer  uncivilized  mannei-s  and  mode 
of  life,  are  strangely  attractive  to  these  good 
peasant  folk,  who  consider  them  all  —  for 
there  is  hardly  any  knowledge  of  a  North  and 
South,  of  an  English  and  Spanish  America — 
half-breed  descendants  of  the  great  Conquis- 
tadores  and  the  Indians — some  sort  of  bas- 
tard children  of  Spain,  who  have  grown  rich 

56 


Argamasilia 


J.^!;:: 


If'3^';*= 


i,-*^ 


^    " 


at  the  expense  of  the  mother  country,  and 
yet  whose  ])ower  redounds  to  the  glory  of 
the  Spanish  family  ! 

My  friend  the  i:»rlest  went  so  far  as  to 
post  his  niece  at  an  upper  window  of  his 
comfortable  house  to  watch  should  I  happen 

to  pass  in  the  lonely  street,  so  that  he  mi^jht 
kno\y  where  I  went,  and  go  and  button-hole 
iTie.     The  duty  can  hardly  have  been  irksome 

to  the  damsel — it  chimed  in  too  well  with 
local  customs,  for  at  the  approach  of  foot- 
steps in  the  usually  deserted  streets  the  lat- 
ticed windows  would  always  be  seen  to  bios- 

57 


:  I 


Argamasilla 


som  for  an  instant  with  inquisitive  female 
faces.  This  curiosity  is  never  offensive,  and 
one    can't    help    feeling    thankful    at    being 

a  source  of  innocent  distraction  to  people 
whose  life  turns  hopelessly  in  the  same  nar- 
row circle.  Wherever  I  went  wiles  were 
resorted  to  to  look  at  me  without  imperti- 
nence. Some  fortuitous  duty  had  to  be  per- 
formed, the  street  had  to  be  sprinkled,  or 
the  woman  was  apparently  immersed  in  con- 
versation on  her  neighbor's  threshold,  gestic- 
ulating about  something  which  was  not  said, 
with  eyes  and  ears  fixed  on  that  most  un- 
usual sight — an  Americano  in  Argamasilla. 

On  the  last  evening  before  my  first  sallv, 
Gregorio  and  I  had  a  walk  through  the  vil- 
lage, kicking  the  thick-lying  dust  and  knock- 
ing our  feet  on  the  rough  stones  of  the  ir- 
regular streets  without  sidewalks.  If  ere  and 
there  stood  a  stranded  cart,  lOfroups  sat  si- 
lently before  open  doors — the  lights,  in  that 
harmony  of  gray  and  purple,  pitching  in  a 

w^arm  note  like  a  praudy  flower  in  the  dark 
hair  of  an  Andaluslan  girl.  The  customary 
salutations  were  exchanorcd  in  a  low,  ofrave 
voice  —  '  Go   your  way  with   God  "  accom- 

panied  us  on  our  way.       We  sat  on  the    little 

58 


Argamasilla 


bridge  which  spans  that  curious  river  the 
Guadiana,  and  in  the  dense  foliage  over  us 
the  nightingales  were  singing,  and  little  falls 

near  by  murmuring  an  accompaniment.  Gre- 
gorio told  many 
a  story  which  had 
the  musty  per- 
fume of  bvsfone, 
forgotten  days, 
about  this  won- 
derful  Guadiana, 

that  had  its  birth 
in  swamps,  and 
after  running-  for 

miles  loses  itself, 
to  reappear  seven 
leairues  farther 


.~  _'>'^  >- 


..Pfi^^^f^-Cx   \  \ 


^v-l 


L 


on.      "Very  mysterious,  isn't  it?"  says  my 

companion.  ''Once  one  of  the  kings  of 
Spain  was  talking  about  his  country  with 
the  king  of  France,  and  to  his  chagrin  was 
finding  that  all  that  Spain  had,  France  also 
had.  It  had  olives  and  wheat  and  grapes, 
and  everything  that  Spain  had,  until  the  king 
thought  of  the  Guadiana,  and  he  said  :  '  I 
have  a  bridge  seven  leagues  in  length.'     The 

poor    Preneh    king    had    nothing    further    to 


59 


I 


I 


Argamasilla 


som  for  an  Instant  with  inquisitive  female 
faces.      This  curiosity  is  never  offensive,  and 

one  can't  help  feeling  thankful  at  being 

a  source  of  innocent  distraction  to  people 
whose  life  turns  liopelessly  in  the  same  nar- 
row   circle.     Wherever   I    went  wiles   were 

resorted  to  to  look  at  me  without  imperti- 
nence. Some  fortuitous  duty  had  to  be  per- 
formed, the  street  had  to  be  sprinkled,  or 
the  woman  w^as  apparently  immersed  in  con- 
versation on  her  neighbor's  threshold,  o;estie- 
ulating  about  something  which  was  not  said, 
with  eyes  and  ears  fixed  on  that  most  un- 
usual sight — an  Americano  in  Argamasilla. 

On  the  last  evening  before  my  first  sallv, 
Gregorio  and  I  had  a  walk  through  the  vil- 
lage, kicking  the  thick-lying  dust  and  knock- 
ing our  feet  on  the  rough  stones  of  the  ir- 
regular streets  without  sidewalks.  Here  and 
there  stood  a  stranded  cart,  o^roups  sat  si- 
lently before  open  doors — the  liochts,  in  that 
harmonv  of  gray  and  purple,  pitching  in  a 
warm  note  like  a  gaudy  flower  in  the  dark 
hair  of  an  Andalusian  girl.  The  customary 
salutations  were  exchangred  in    a   low,  srrave 

voice  — '  Go  your  way  with  God  "  accom- 

panied  us  on  our  wav.      We  sat  on  the    little 

58 


Argamasilla 


r5-J>-- 


Si-^*".'^'?^.  1^2i>- r*  -■■  - 


bridge  which  spans  that  curious  river  the 
Guadiana,  and  in   the   dense   foliage  over  us 

the  nightingales  were  singing,  and  little  falls 

near  by  murmuring  an  accompaniment.    Gre- 
gorio   told    many 
a  story  which  had 

the  musty  per- 
fume of  bygone, 
forgotten  days, 
about  this  won- 
derful Guadiana, 
that  had  its  birth 
in  swamps,  and 
after  runnini^  for 

miles  loses  itself, 
to  reappear  seven 
leagues  farther 
on.     "Very  mysterious,  isn't  it?"  says  my 

companion.  *'  Once  one  of  the  kings  of 
Spain  was  talking  about  his  country  with 
the  king  of  France,  and  to  his  chagrin  was 
finding  that  all  that  Spain  had,  France  also 
had.  It  had  oliv^es  and  wheat  and  grapes, 
and  everything  that  Spain  had,  until  the  king 
thought  of  the  Guadiana,  and  he  said  :  *  I 
have  a  bridge  seven  leagues  in  length.'     The 

poor    French    king^    had    nothing     further    to 

59 


Arg-amasilla 


i 


say."     There,  come  down  bv  way  of  mouth 

through  generations,  altered  but  elearly  rec- 
ognizable, was  the  story  of  the  Ambassador 
Rui  Gonzalez  de  Clavijo,  sent  by  Enrique 
III.  to  Tamerlane,  and  who,  having  in  mind 

this  same  Guadiana,  boasted  that  in  his  mas- 
ter's dominions  was  a  bridge  forty  miles 
wide,  on  the  top  of  which  two  hundred 
thousand  herd  of  cattle  could  graze. 


Ill 

The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


60 


-~*--"*--'-' — 


v-^  ^^::  ^■~-- 


v^ 


^ 
^ 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 

I   WAS    fortunate  during  my  first  week  in 
Argamasilla  in  enlisting  the  services  of 

Ezechiel,  an  honest  old  fellow,  possessor 
of  a  mule  cart,  and  fairly  acquainted  with 
the  surrounding  districts.  For  many  days 
thereafter  Ezechiel  and  I  rambled  over  this 

poor  land  of  La  Mancha ;  and  if  1  had  to 
pay  for  my  delightful  experiences  in  some 
bodily  discomforts,  they  were  part  of  the 
game  and  were  more  than  compensated  for 

by  constant  intercourse  with  plain,  old-time 
folks,  by  the  superb  scenery,  with  its  ruined 
eastles  and  caravansaries,  relics  of  feudal  and 
Moorish  days,  by  the  ancient  customs  and 
the  legends  which,  like  ivy  on  a  gnarled  oak- 
tree,  cling  to  every  bit  of  this  historical  and 
romantic  land. 

It  is  a  little  before  two  in  the  moniins: 

when,  for  the  first  time,  I  find  Ezechiel  at 
the  posada  door  loading  provisions,  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  loaves  of  bread,  skin  bottles  of 

wine  and  water,  and  the  inseparable  compan- 

6-, 


>"■*••■»'%«*» , 


1*1 


lt<' 


The    Cave    of    Alontesinos 


.-■  V. 


-:£■■}  >^:^^ 


e-r-«-:    y 


^"^  ^ '■■ 


ion  of  every  jManchco^an,  the  shot-^izun,  in 

hi^  two-wheeled  eart.  A  few  ^tep^,  and  like 
Panza  and  Quixote  "we  sally  forth  from  the 
villaore  without  anv  person  seeinir  us,"  and 
are  in  the  wide,  tiat  eountrv.  In  spite  of 
the  darkness,  a  sort  of  translueenee  perme- 
ates sky  and  earth,  orivino;  to  the  seene  the 
weird  aspect  of  a  country  of  dreams.  The 
faint,   shadowv  silhouettes  of  the  escort  of 

two  mounted  police,  ''  Guardias  Civdes,"  hob 
up  and  down  before  us  like  intangible  Im- 
a2;es.  Our  mule  vanishes  in  the  eloom  ;  the 
onlv  thino-s  trulv  alive  are  two  stars — two 
watching-  eyes  peeping  above  the  horizon. 
Stretched  on  one  of  the  two  benches  which 

64 


The  Cave  of  Montesino 


s 


line  the  cart,  I  doze  peacefullv,  lulled  by 
the  subdued  breathing  of  old  mother  earth 
m  her  sleep— the  grand  lullaby  made  bv  all 
the  Hihnitesimal  noises  of  nature,  above 
which  the  fitful  jingling  of  the  bells  plaved 

a  delightful  silvery  cadence. 

Steadfastly,  up  and  down  invisible  hills, 
the  cart  advances  on  its  monotonous  jour- 
nev  into  the  solitude,  creaking  like  a  creat- 
ure in  i)ain.  Once  in  awhile,  like  a  warrior 
I)re])aring  for  the  assault,  our  mule  stops  an 
nistant,  gathering  strength  to  bump  airainst 
and   surmount  some  inevitable  obstacle,  and 

then   follows   a  bounce   on    the  rude    benches 
and     occasionally    a     landing     on    the     rope 


it 


n 


■it"! 


65 


'   1. 


I' 


The   Cave   of   Montcsinos 


ncttincr    which    forms    the    bottom    of    the 


cart. 


As  day  approaches,  the  countrv  reveals  it- 
self in  a  series  of  slowly  changincr  panoramas. 

The  dreary  plain  is  left  behind,  and  the  sav- 


./ 


\=- 


#  ^  •', 


>. 


\ 


^^■■^^ 


i^ 

\ 


'X 


"N 


acre  and  picturesque  sccnerv   of  the  JA^/v/r 

now  surrounds  us.  How  naturallv  the-  two 
pathetic  fiorures  of  Quixote  and  Sancho  loom 
up  in  this  admirable  settincr,  and  harmonize 
with  the  g-randiose,  severe  lines  of  the  rocky 

hills  surmounted  by  ruins.  We  pass  ])\- 
scores  of  hatai^ics  (fullincr-mills),  which  Cer- 
vantes may  have  had   in   mind  in  his  advent- 

66 


The   Cave   of   Montesin 


OS 


ure  of  the  Fulling-Hammers  (Chapter  XX.), 
for  the  surroundings  of  rocks  and  tall  trees 
chime  well  with  his  description.  The  peas- 
ants who  manned  them  in  Cervantes's  time 

must  have  been  in  appearance,  tvpe  of  face 

and  costume,  very  like  the  brawnv  Arab- 
looking  fellows  we  meet,  and  the  range  of 
ideas  and  style  of  living  of  these  cannot  be 
essentially  different  from  that  of  their  ances- 
tors. The  mills  themselves,  bearing  signs 
of  extreme  old  age,  make  pretty  pictures, 
with    their  dripping  moss   and    maiden-hair 

garmenls.       It  would    be    airreeable    to    think 

they  are  the  same  hatailes  which  crave  such 
tremendous  sensations  to  the  worthv  Knicrht 
and  frightened  his  faithful  Squire,'  but  Uie 
mij)ossible  adventures  of  the  hero  of  romance 
have  been  made  to  a.rrree  with  the  stern  facts 
of  geogra])hy,  and  in  consequence  we  know, 
as  Cervantes  probably  did  not,  that  the  ba- 

/a?}es  he  described  were  located    in    a  definite 
place  east  of  Ciudad  Real. 

The  roadway  begins  to  skirt  the  lagoons  of 
Ruidera,  the  chain  of  lapis  lazuli  mirrors  set 

m  crowns  of  luxuriant  rushes,  formed  hy 
the  Guadiana,  the  mighty  river  of  Don  Ouix- 
ote's  country.      Toward  nine,  while  catchincr 

6? 


// 


5      ^'      -  ■  ■ 


"^ 


•<; 


^ 


' 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


a  glimpse  of  a  waterfall,  we  stumble  on  l^u- 
idcra,  a  handful  of  straggling  houses  singu- 
larly dwarfed  by  the  hujre  ruins  of  a  palace 

once  one  of  the  lordly  scats  of  the  mighty 
Order  of  San  Juan,  whom  Cervantes  served 
in  the  lonely  capacity  of  tax  collector.  As 
we  enter  the  one  street  ("street"  by  courtesy 
and  for  want  of  a  ht  name  to  describe  it) 
I  suddenly  realize  why  Argamasillans  have 
reason  to  be  proud  of  their  villaire.  Area- 
masilla  i^  a  modern,   eivilizcd  city  compared 

to  these  tumble -down  houses,  with  doors 
broken  or  hanging  by  ropes  or  prop})ed  up 
by  stones,  or  gates  without  doors,  and  the 

shocking  dispkiy  of  iilth  and  decay  every- 
where. 

Hie  cart  is  left  to  sizzle  in  the  sun.     Our 

Guardias  hold  court,  surrounded  by  effusive 

vula,<rei-s,  while  I  seek  refuo^e  from  the  heat 
\\\  the  house  which  o;|ves  shelter  to  travel- 
lers. A  woman-servant,  young,  faded,  and 
wrinkled,  her  clothes  bundled  about  her 
hips,  lier  hair  a-tanglc,  sets  out  to  brush  away 
the  inches  of  venerable  dust  which  cover  the 
beaten  earth  flooring.  She  moves  about  with 
the  queer,  nervous  movements  of  a  mountain 

^Gcoat,  and,  when    I  order  her   to  desist,  jumps 

69 


i 


I 
t 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


as  if  struck  and  gives  a  wild,  frightened  look 

around.    Ezechiel  has  a  hard  time  to  entice 

her  to  the  courtyard  and  open-air  cookincr. 
The  whitewashed  walls  of  the  show-room, 
the  one  room  of  this  hostelry  of  the  lowest 
order,  the  ceiling  of  smoked  logs,  the  jugs 
and  dried-skin  bottles  in  the  corner,  the  h^n-- 
ness  hung  on  a  nail,  vie  with  each  other  in 
hiding  their  identity  under  alternate  coats  of 

dirt,    soot,   and    dust.      Two    Impossible    sofas 

parade  as  ornaments  more  than  as  useful  ob- 
jects, their  flat  cushions  and  pillows,  tilled 
with  rags,  keeping  faithfully  the  im})ressions 
of  the  last  impact.  There  are  no  windows, 
but  a  cool  blue  light  falls  from  the  ehimnex-- 
shaft,  and  blades  of  sunlio-ht  eomincr  throuo-h 
the  holes  and  cracks  of  the  closed  door  streak 


II 


■"^T. 


r 


(k^^. 


ro 


The   Cave   of   Montesinos 


i\''='-'.    .Mir',     .    r»  •■st-:'-'--  rl^ 
::^\.--.  ^-  ■  • .,  W'     m^  ■  ■'■■  i^'  ':}rM 


rrO^ 


^'^r:-a*--^5^fr  .; 


the  shadow,  making  the  millions  of  whirling 
atoms  glisten. 

While  prei)arations  for  the  dinner  are  going 
on  outside,  the  Guardias  drop  in  and  regale 

me  with  a!^  pretty  a  ^eene  from  the  Spanish 

picarescjue  novels  as  one  could  wish  for. 
They  are,  of  course,  above  tips  of  any  kind 
and  are  strictly  enjoined  to  partake  but  of 
their  own  fare,  which  they  carry  with  them 
everywhere  in  their  journeys.  But  here  what 
a  irodsend  is  the  rare  traveller  able  to  com- 
mand — meat  for  his  dinner  and  probablv, 
also,  wine  in  profusion.  And  how  can  one 
help  being  near  the  traveller  when  meal-time 

71 


V 


1 


1 


If      I: 


^''    0 


H  \f 


The  Cave  of  Monlesinos 


approaehesto  make 
one's    self    ao;reea- 

hie,  sayii\ir  all  sorts 
of  niee  thinus  with 
a  smile  whieh  iin- 
eonseiously    discox'- 

crs  the  rows  of 
short,  shar|),  white 
teeth  ready  fur  tlie 
fra\'  !  Honest  Ky.r- 
ehiel  JKid  Wciiiud 
m  e  a  cfn  i  n  ^t  t  h  e 
snares  sonutiines 
set    on    >Ui\\    t  )CCti- 

sions,  yet  I  coulln  t 
hut     take     pleasure 

in  ori\-nirr  in  at  once 

(a  ij^reat  mistake), 
telling-  llu-ni  that,  of 
eoLirse,  1  hoped  they 
would    aeeept   their 

share  of  my  meal.    The  prev  provini;-  so  easv, 

straightway  the  scope  of  mv  new  friends' 
and  parasites'  operations  c:i'ew  to  larc:e  j)ro- 
portions.      Why  shouldn't  the\'  rearranm'  the 

details  of  my  trip  so  as  to  orive  themselves 
as  little  travelling  and  as  many  feasts  as  pos- 


11       -^     ^'■-''^^:^^I^-^^ 


\' 


( 


I 


The  Cave  of  Monteslnos 


sihle?  The  most  eaptivating  reasons,  en- 
livened with  Castilian  ])earls  of  rhetoric  and 
llowery  and  courteous  expressions,  flowed  as 
naturally  from  their  lij)s  as  water  from  a 
spring.  I  enjoyed  it  for  a  half  hour,  till  it 
became  clear  that  the  stranger,  who  was  fall- 

incr  from  the  dicrnity  of  Excenencia  to  that 
of  C'ahallero,  and  linally  of  ])lain  Scnor,  haci 
reasons,  and  good  ones,  though  m\-  f i  iends 
couldn't  understand  them,  for  kee])in<'  to  his 
original  j.hni.  Nevertheless  they  kindjv  stood 
*'n  each  -idc  of  me  during  my  repast,  arui 
\aliaiul\-    heipc-d    light    the    swanris    ol    llies 

v^hiih  ihreatened  eadi  iiiorsel.     I  (\\j)eele(l 

my  huge  skin  winc-boiilc  lu  be  in  a  Male  of 
conaj)^e  at  the  end  of  their  dinnca",  but  was 
liardlN  pre])ared  for  the  (hiardias's  hastv  de- 
parture and  return  with  an  enormous  pan 
of  wine-punch  some  villagers  had  ])repared 
for  tliem,  a  ])erformance  which  was  repeated 
several  times.  The  Guardia  Civil,  this  flower 
of  Sj)eeial  Sj)anish  growth,  half-military  and 
half-poliee,  which  has  worked  l)y  \t^rs/)ri/  dc 
corps  so  great  a  change  in  the  brigand-ridden 
provinces  of  Sj)ain,  and  has  justly  deserved 
the  honored  title  of  terror  of  evil-doers,  is 
ai)t    at    times,    when    in    the    back    country 

73 


t 


I 


I 


( 

r 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


where  communications  are  difficult  and  the 
ignorance  and  fear  of  the  peasants  insure 
immunity,  to  relax  somewhat  from  its  high 
estate  and  indulge  in  such  undignified  per- 
formance as  this.  Yet  the  failings  of  a  few 
do  not  impair  the  great  value  and  high  char- 
acter of  a  body  of  some  twentv-eight  thou- 
sand men,  which,  taken  in  its  cjisc)}ihh\  is 
admirably   disciplined   and   renders  the   most 

valuable  services. 

When  1  got  ready  to  start  off  again  toward 
noon  my  worthy  protectors  were  l\-ing  limp 
in  all  their  imposing   militarv   paraphernaha 

on  the  sofas  above  described,  snoring  like 

angry  bulls,  and  1  was  grateful  at  i^eing  able 
to  go  without  them. 

As  we  march  away  from  the  river  we  fmd 
the  countrv  savag^e  and  desolate.  Red  earth- 
mounds  surround  us  for  hours  witii  peculiar 
clusters  of  low,  stunted  trees,  looking  like 
Hocks   of    sheep.     The   thermometer  marks 

loo  de^rrees  in  the  shade,  vet  ihc  furnace 
air  is  drv,  full  of  ozoue,  and  rich  with  the 
pungent  ^aroma  of  wild  mountain  plants. 
In  a'delicious  monotony  of  surroundings  the 
hours  pass,  enlivened  only  by  the  SOngS  of 
the  whirring,  bustling,  leaping  locusts.     How 

74 


V;- 


"m.:  s    ^. 


'>i'i  t>  ■  ■ '    "-^        ■■■■  ■*.  *• 


r 


y^       ^ 


1\ 


0. 


►^ 


tc' 


^ 


^^d  .  •  ft  ft    •   ■ 


The   Cave   of   Montesinos 


The   Cave   of   Montesinos 


*: 


I 


■-/■^^ 


^,^> 


true  IS  the  Spanish  equivalent  for  our  ''  (loo;- 
davs" — fan/a  la  clucharra — the  sono;  of  the 
locusts  and  cicadas  rejoicino;  in  the  heat, 
which  serves  but  to  make  the  silence  of  the 
solitude  heard.  In  the  orood  places  the 
springless,  unwieldy  cart,  with  its  solid  iron 
axle,  moves  in  a  constant  tremor,  enlivened 
by    occasional   bumps.      In    bad    places    the 

process  is  reversed,  and  occasional  rumbbng; 
lulls  are  the  momentary  diversions  to  the 
continual  roucrh,  bumpinor  dance.  Our  wny 
little  mule  bravely  marches  on  at  an  even 
pace,  and  picking  her  way  daintily  among  the 
loose  stones  carries  her  load  over  the  rough 
road  as  if  it  were  mere  play.  She  is  a  good 
representative  of  her  class,  while  her  master 


76 


'>^-?:s 


is  a  rare  specimen  of 
the  muleteer  fraternity. 
He  has  not  even  a  whip, 

but  his  mule  under- 
stands well  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words.  Up 
the  steep  hill,  he  keeps  up  a  constant  stream 
of  interjections  to  encourage  her—*'  Hija!'' 

"  Morcna  f  "  "  Daughter  !  "  "  Brunette  !  " 
''One  more,  daughter!"  "Good!"  "Go 
ahead  ! "  "  Beauty  i  "  "  Aya  !  "  "  Arrarha  I " 

—'*  There  we  are,"  the  hrave  hrute  making 
a  visible  efifoit  at  each  word.  When  the 
top  is  reached  Ezechiel  rewards  her  with 
"  GuapaJ'  "Beauty,"  "Take  it  gently  now, 
beauty,"  and  with  his  quiet  voice  falls  into 
praising  the  mule,  which  is  his  fortune.  He 
could  verily  say  of  her  what  Sancho  said  of 
his  ass :  "  O  child    of    my   bowels,   born  in 


-x;x 


■a    1  '. 


1^  \ 


(I 


1:^ 

I...  1 


i  ' 


(I 


I 


•J   I 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


my  very  home,  the  dehght  of  my  wife,  the 
envy   of    my  neighbors,  the    sharer  of  my 

burdens,  and,  beyond  all,  the  support  of 
half  my  person  ;  for,  with  six  and  twenty 
maravedis,  which  thou  earnest  for  me  daily, 
do  I  make  half  my  living."  Ezechiel  has 
a  wife,  and  If  he  does  not  name  her  (for 
that  would  be  contrary  to  custom),  one  feels 
that  she  occupies  the  whole  background  of 
his    thoughts.      I   learn    that   they    are  very 

much  concerned  now,  for  the  pig  they  are 
fattening-  does  not  come  on  well.  Like  all 
Manchegos,  he  rents  a  little  field  from  some 
rich  land-owner,  which  supplies  potatoes  and 
wheat  to  pay  the  land-owner,  and  enough 
besides,  when  all  goes  well,  to  keep  the  wolf 
from  the  door. 


,|i     .^: 


z': 


-tST-.i 


•i^^t^^  r^^ 


^ 


Cr^r-' 


Q  " 


x 


.1 


1 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


.^^~ 


«^,-.  -Tf'S?; 


r 


i.Jf 


iii> 


fi.. 


% 


To  cfct  an  idea  of  the  smallness  of  Eze- 
chiel's  income  one  has  but  to  know  that  the 
only  money  which  comes  into  the  family  is 
earned  by  his  occasional  journeys  with  his 
cart,  doinof  errands  and  hauling  freif^ht.      He 

has  an  average  of  a  month  out  of  the  vear 

at  such  work,  and  about  four  pesetas  a  day 
(at  the  time  of  my  journcv  less  than  sixty 
cents  in  gold),  out  of  which  he  must  pay  for 
the  shelter  and  sustenance  of  himself  and  his 
mule  during  these  trips.  What  little  money 
is  made  goes  toward  paving  for  the  rent  of 
the    house,    buvinc:    the   few   household    and 

farmiiiir  implements  and  the  cotton  and  wool 

out  of  which  the  wife  makes  their  clothes. 

79 


I  I' 


i'i 


I  I 


1 


I 

■HI 


The   Cave  of  Montesinos 


my  very  home,  the  delight  of  my  wife,  the 

envy  of  mj  neighbors,  the  sharer  of  mv 
burdens,  and,  beyond  all,  the  support  of 
half  my   person  ;    for,    with   six   and    twenty 

maravedis,  which  thou  earnest  for  me  daily, 
do  I  make  half  my  living."  Ezechiel  has 
a  wife,  and  if  he  does  not  name  her  (for 
that  would  be  contrary  to  custom),  one  feels 

that  she  occupies  the  whole  background  of 

his  thoughts.  I  learn  that  they  are  very 
much  concerned  now,  for  the  pig  they  are 
fattening  does  not  come  on  well.     Like  all 

Manchegos,  he  rents  a  little  field  from  some 
rich  land-owner,  which  supplies  potatoes  and 
wheat  to  pay  the  land-owner,  and  enough 
besides,  when  all  goes  well,  to  keep  the  wolf 

from   the   door. 


The   Cave  of   Montesinos 


i'. 


.& 


-.cC?^^^^'^^^ 


-,<*-'? 


X 


r.V  "-> 


To  get  an  idea  of  the  smallness  of  Ezc- 
chiel's  income  one  has  but  to  know  that  the 
only  money  which  comes  into  the  family  is 
earned  by  his  occasional    journeys  with  his 

cart,  aoninf  errands  and  hauunnr  freiQrht.  He 
has  an  average  of  a  month  out  of  the  year 
at  such  work,  and  about  four  pesetas  a  day 
(at  the  time  of  my  journey  less  than  sixty 

cents  in  gold),  out  of  which  he  must  pay  for 
the  shelter  and  sustenance  of  himself  and  his 
mule  during  these  trips.  What  little  money 
is  made  goes  toward  paying  for  the  rent  of 

the  house,  buvino:  the  few  household  and 
farnilnir  Implements  and  the  cotton  and  wool 
out  of  which  the  wife  makes  their  clothes. 


(I  :  .J 


79 


'.■m 


1 11 


\ 


*  I. 


I '  I 


The  Cave  of  IMontesinos 


The  Cave  of  Montesinos 


Late  In  the  afternoon,  having  met  with  no 
one  since  leaving  Ruidera,  we  pass  through 
Osa  de  Monteil,  the  houses  half-hidden  in 
clouds  of  dust  raised  bv  the  threshing  go- 
ing  on  all  about.      An   hour  after,  Ezechiel, 


L 


iET 


I 


fe 


who  has  never  been  in  this  direction  be- 
fore, loses  his  bearings,  and  we  have  a  pain- 
ful trudge  across  the  brush  till    the  yawn- 

So 


.-^-rk-. 


\i^  .•»•- 


H}£t 


X., 


ing  chasm  of  the  valley  of  the  Guadiana  is 
again  l)efore  us.  It  is  not  easy  to  locate  the 
object  of  our  journey,  the  famous  Cave  of 
Montesinos,  ''  of  which  so  many  and  such 
wonderful  things   are  "  still    *'  told    in  these 

}:>arts,"  and  we  are  about  to  give  uj3  the  quest 
when  a  goatherd  conies  to  our  rescue.  It 
was  fitting  that  such  a  quaint  figure  as  that 
of  the  lonely  shepherd  we  met,  dressed  in 
the  primitive  costume  which  has  not  changed 
for  centuries,  with  the  crooked  staff  in  hand 
and  a  horn   dangling  by  his  side,   should  be 

our  guide  to  the  mysterious  place.  On  ex- 
amination it  is  evident  that  Cervantes  knew 
it,  for  his  artistic  description,  cunningly  ex- 
aggerated to  suit  the  necessities  of  the  ro- 
mance,  is  true  to  nature   and  full  of  local 

Si 


I 


The  Cave  of  Monteslnos 


color.  The  "  Vagabond  in  Spain  "  was  mis- 
taken in  placing  the  recess  or  chamber  of 
which  Quixote  speaks  as  on  the  left  hand  of 
the  cave  going  down.  It  is  on  the  right 
hand,  as  in  the  story.  The  fact  is  not  with- 
out value,  since  the  "  Vagabond  "  infers  from 

it  that  Cervantes  had  not  seen,  but  only  heard 
of,  the  cave.  Not  being  equipjied  with  the 
needful  lights,  I  could  not  fathom  the  mys- 
terious recesses  of  the  cave,  which  did  not 
surprise  Kzechiel  or  the  shepherd,  who  were 
sure  that  no  livinof  man  ever  could  ^o  far  into 


it,    as    there   were    insurmountable    obstacles 

in  the  way— treacherous  ground,  a  fathom- 
less lake,  a  turbulent  stream,  and  Heaven 
knows  what  !  "  Surelv  there  arc  lots  of  <rold 
and    diamonds    there,"  they  said ;  and    thus 

involuntarily  testified  to  the  persistence  of 
traditions,  for  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
the  Cave  of  Montesinos  is  but  an  old  Koman 
copper-mine.  The  weirdness  of  its  surround- 
ings is  unimaginable. 

The  mixture  of  severity  and  loveliness 
makes  of  these  valleys  of  the  Upper  Guadi- 
ana  one  of  the  rarest,  most  intimate,  and 
impressive  successions  of  landscapes  I  have 
ever  seen.     In  the  early  evening,  when  the 

82 


I 


V 

^ 

t 
^ 


The  Cave  of  Montcsinos 


tender,  delicate  blush  of  the  sky  after  sunset 

is  streaked  with   veils  of  light,  the  earth  has 

a    solidity    of    aspect    and    a    soberness    and 

streno-th   of  color  which  the  sunlight  takes 
o 

away  from  it. 


IV 


Monteil 


84 


^teiS^|P#f^i^' 


/ 


^'"■■.'•'*:>l*i3^V      V.     ■  '. -^  r 


>  ■  vf?;'-;'--  .r^r  ."^'/l'?' 


^^i^ 


p.^ 


fe 


7^ke  Hermitage  of  Saeiices. 


Monteil 

IT  is  dark  night  when  after  leaving  the  cave 
of  Montesinos  we  arrive  at  the  Cortijo  de 
St.  Pedro,  or  at  the  three  houses  baptized 
with  that   llorid  a|)pellation.      We  have  had 
our  sup|)er  on  the  road  and  I  am  too  tired  to 

watch  the  new  mood  of  our  friends,  the 
Guardias,  who  he  it  said  to  their  credit  look 
somewhat  ashamed  of  themselves.  Getting 
into  the  hovel,  some  ten  by  fifteen  feet  in 
size,  which  is  to  be  my  nii^ht's  lodginu-i^lace, 
1  lind  the  luxury  of  eU'an  sheets  over  a  straw 
matlicss  on  one  of  the  two  stone  benches  on 
eaeii  side  of  the    fu'e  ~  place  ;    on    the    otiier 

bench  a  vouth  stretched  at  lull  k-nutli  and 
sleepin^C^  peacefully  'I  he  (lUaidia-^  aii 
dressed  IjuL  fui  ihcii  bouts,  wiiicJ!  tlic)'  take 
('*rr  lie  down  to  slcTp  on  the  iloor,  niul 
tlianks  to  habit  cuul  the  glories  of  the  dejeu- 
ner, succeed.  Besides  tlie  entrance  -  door 
there  arc  two  doorless  passages,  one  iead- 
WYI  to  the  closet    monopolized  by  the  aiiio 

and   his  wife,  the  other   to  the   statole.       Sleep 

87 


k 


M  on  toil 


is  impossible  ;  the  very  stone  under  my  mat- 
tress teems  with  animal  activity,  but  1  prefer 
lying  awake  to  going  outside  where  the  cold 
mist  of  the  neighboring  marshes  is  saturated 

with  malaria.  Toward  one  in  the  morning 
some  muleteer  loudly  knocks  for  admittance. 
The  a?no  gets  up,  lights  his  oil-lamp  (that  of 
the  Romans  of  old  and  the  Moors  of  to-day), 

and  in  scampers  a  troop  of  mules  to  the 
stable  ;  but  as  there  is  no  place  there  for  all, 
the  new-comer  stretches  on  the  floor  of  our 
room  between  two  of  his  mules,  whose  ner- 
vously tinkling  bells  tell  tales  of  martyrdom, 
as  do  also  the  plaintive  sounds,  the  groans, 
and  quick  motions  of  the  restless  sleepers. 
O/i/  dura  tcllus  Ibcrice ! 

At  last,  unable  to  stand  any  more,  I  leave 
the  room  and  uro:c  Ezechlel  to  start  while  I 
make  an  excursion  to  the  Ermita  de  Saclices, 
the  same  Hermitage  mayhap,  (piicn  sabc  ? 

where  Don  Ouixotc,  Sancho,  and  the  stu- 
dent  stopped  on  their  way  back  from  the 
Enchanted  Cave  of  Montesinos,  and  where, 
not  having:  the  s^ood  fortune  of  finding  the 

Hermit  at  home,  but  only  his  she  deputy  (a 
by  no  means  uncommon  appanage  of  her- 
mitages  in  those  days),  they  were   unable   to 

88  4 


A 


Monteil 


secure  what  Sancho  so  much  wanted  there— 

a  drautrht  of  sTood  wine.  "If  it  had  been  a 
water  thirst,  there  are  wells  on  the  road 
wdiere    I    could    have   quenched    it,"   was    the 

squire's  blunt  acknowledgment  for  the  wom- 
an's offer  of  the  tame  substitute.      At  small 
ex])ense  the  chapel   could  be  restored  to  its 
original    condi- 
tion, SO  well  built 
it    is.      But    her- 
mits are  no  more 
the  fashion  of  the 

day,  and  the  nu- 
merous army  of 
priests  and  monks 
has  been  so  re- 
duced that  all 
over  the  land, 
which  is  vcarlv 
growing    poorer, 

most  of  the 
c  h  u  r  e  h  e  s  and 
chaj^els    are    fall- 


mir  to  rums. 


A    man    whom 
we    find    prowling    about    the    house    offers 
a  helping   hand  to    harness  the    mule.     As 

89 


Monteil 


vW 


.  -  X-  .  V* 


,-^^.Nf^    V 


V 


^-N. 


l^ 


l£ 


^^ 


we  move  away  Ezechiel  says :  "  Vou  saw 
that  man  ;  he  is  to  go  to  prison  soon.      He 

has  kiUed  his  brother,  the  poor  fellow." 
The  case  is  typical  of  the  temper  of  these 
people.    This  man  Carlos  had  a  brother  Mi.c^- 

ueL  who  one  morninc:   hitelv  amused  him- 

self  by  throwing  stones  at  Carlos's  dog. 
Carlos,  hearing  his  dog  yell,  came  out,  saw 
what  Miguel  was  doing  and  told  him  to  stop. 

Miguel  refused  to  do  so,  adding  that  if  his 

brother  did  not  go  back  to  the  house  and 
stop  talking  he  would  throw  stones  at  him 
too.      Whereupon   Carlos   went   back   to   the 

house,  got  his  gun,  and  coming  back  to  the 

90 


Monteil 


•'■\- — 


V 


^^^tei-^c^?^/ 


V„ 


\. 


f  ;w 


-.3  'I*  '■  •* 


'Kry 


,^/ 


w 


door-step,  shot  his  brother  and  killed  him. 
I  asked  Ezechiel,  '*  What  made  Miguel  tor- 
ment the  dog  ?    Had  he  been  bitten  by  him  ? 
Ezechiel  says  :  "  No  ;  I  think  not ;  but  you 
see  Miguel  had  a  large  family  of  daughters. 
You  know  the   saying  :  '  Tres  hijas  y  una 
niadrc,  ciiafro  diablos  para  7111  pad7'c.    Three 
daughters  and    a  mother,   four    devils   for  a 
father.'"     '^Why  is  Carlos  free?"   I  asked. 
He  replied  :  "Well,  they'll  take  him  to  pris- 
on when  his  trial  comes  on  in  a  month  or  so. 
''  Aren't   they  afraid   he  will   run  away  In  the 
meantime  ?  "      ''  No  ;  where  do  you  want  him 
to   run   to,  Senor?      He  can't   hide   in  the 

91 


M  on  tell 

Sierras,  for  the  Guardias  will  find  him  easily. 
He  can't  take  a  train  and  go  anywhere,  for 
he  has  never  been  on  the  cars  in  his  life  any 
more    than   I   have,   and  he  wouldn't    know 

where  to  go." 

I  inquired  what  the  penalty  for  such  an 
offence  was  likely  to  be. 

The  old  man  replied  :  "  I  don't  know  ;  per- 
haps ten  years,  but  probably  less.  You  see 
there  was  provocation  !  " 

We  skirt  the  l)anks  of  the  lagoons,  and  a 
succession  of  exquisite  little  Corot  pictures 

follow  one  another  at  each  new  turn  of  the 
road.  A  gray  gauze  envelops  them,  blot- 
ting out  the  details  and  leaving  only  impres- 


Q- 


i.  "'•'' 

Pilu-:   '■■ 

W.'^r^-  't  *^   :r '■^:'•• 


;     ■J#;;/1P   ••    ■■■■     • 


01 


•^  !  - 


"So 


Montcil 


sions   of   large  masses  in   quiet  tones  under 

the  opaline  sky.    Passinij  by  the  Castle  of 

Kochafrida,  its  hoary,  rambling  walls,  some 
fifteen  feet  thiek,  piereed  l)y  a  few  small 
openings,  its  huge  erenellated  towers  erown- 
ing  still  the  roeky  inlet  whieh  rises  soli- 
tary from  the  sea  of  reeds  in  the  centre  of  a 
lake,  look  so  terribly  solid  and  massive  as 
to  bring   forcibly  to   one's  imagination  the 

mediDoval  days.  The  site  has  a  character  of 
grandeur  ;  the  hills  on  both  sides  of  the 
lake  showing  their  bare  flanks,  streaked  with 
strange  metallic   colors,   reds,  yellows,    and 

purples,  in  bands  and  in  masses,  alternating 
in  ruthless  barbaric  splendor,  emphasized  by 
the  few  gnarled,  dwarfed  trees  growing 
crookedly  in  the  crevices.     The  contrast  of 

all  that  savacre  barrenness  with  the  beautiful 
lake  and  the  rows  of  centenarian  chestnuts 
on  its  shores  with  their  noble  masses  of  foli- 
age is  fine.  But  above  it  all,  how  this  cas- 
tle, "  like  roosting  falcon  musing  on  the 
chase,"  focuses  the  attention  !  What  a 
strange    thing    it    is    to    nineteenth  century 

eyes,  and  how  forcibly  it  typifies  that  period 

of  the  developmicnt  ot  humanity  during 
which  our  race  stumbled   along  in  the  traces 

94 


IMonicil 


I 

I 


of  the  feudal  reo:ime.      Tlie  Carlovinirian  le- 

pends,  full  of  simple  humanity,  which  are  en- 
twined about  these  ancient  stones  come  up 
to  one's  memory  as  not  so  distant  after  all. 
And    the    damsel     Rosadorida's    love     and 

eourtshi])  of  brave  Montesinos  is  quite  new- 
womanlike. 

We  cross  the  marshes  at  the  end  of  the 
Rochafrida  lagoon,  climb  slowly  up  the  hill, 

and  find  ourselves  over  the  ridge  on  a  desert- 
ed plain,  broken  in  low  undulations — an  im- 
mense sea  of  reddish  clay  dotted  with  a  few 
low  junipers  and  briars.  Our  road  is  like 
those  caravan  roads  of  Africa — hundreds  of 
yards  in  width,  and  made  of  a  multitude  of 
paths  crossing  one  another,  mixing  together 
pell-mell,  among  which  the  mule  picks  the 

easiest  with  unerring  instinct.  That  road  is 
for  hours  the  solitary  evidence  of  human  pas- 
sage in  the  whole  landscape,  until  at  length, 
in  a  suddenly  abrupt  depression,  the  canon 
bed  of  a  winter  torrent,  we  spy  some  shep- 
herds with  their  flocks  of  sheep.  Going  out 
of   our   way  we   hail   them,  w^anting  to  talk 

with    them.     They  nod  their   heads  and 

move  sullenly  away,  and  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if,  being  what   they  were,  that  was  the   most 

95 


Monteil 


U 


natural  thing  for  them  to  do.  One  docs 
not  spend  all  one's  life  in  such  places  with- 
out being  affected  by  their  forlornness  and 
desolation.  It  is  arid,  savage  La  ]Mancha 
which  makes  the  Manchegan  peasants  shy, 

taciturn,  and  sombre.  These  traits,  always 
more  or  less  prominent  in  all  Spaniards,  are 
they  not  largely  due  to  the  same  cause — the 
lonely  and  savage  character  of  the  country  ? 

Toward  ten,  at  the  end  of  a  weary,  tortu- 
ous climb,  w^e  come  to  some  houses  clustered 
around  a  big,  ugly  church.  If  ever  the  name 
of  a  town  has  belied  its  appearance  it  is  the 

name  of  this  sordid  village,  Villahermosa  ! 
It  is  needless  to  describe  its  hovel  of  a  po- 
sada,  or  the  miserable  lunch  w^hich   we  found 

96 


Monteil 


in  it.     Suffice  it  to  say  that  as  soon  as  our 

mule  could  l)c  made  ready  we  were  off  airain 
for  a  reeonnoissance  some  miles  south  toward 
Monteil,  in  chase  of  romantic  compensations 

for  the  trivial  hardships  of  my  Sancho  self. 

And  1  found  them  straightway  in  the 
rough  descent  to  the  valley,  where  the  mule 
stumbling,    our    cart    turned    a    somersault. 

We  had  an  amusing  time  making  repairs, 
and  were  quite  ready  to  start  again  when  a 


r-"^^ 


^X^  'A 

•if'     .' ' 


;\ 


■>■  '  ■ 

i 
I 


K 


■>y 


/ 


r 


/ 


y 


I 


% 


97 


Monteil 


conii'l\'  vouiil:'  Wiiiiian  nIojsjh/.I  to  exchanjje 
vic\v>  of  the  affair  wiifi  l^Zfchiil.  She  was 
mounted  on  a  donkex',  had  her  hah\-  and 
some  bundles  in  her  arms  and  managed 
to  hold  a  couple  of  loaded  nudes,  besides 
gesticulating-  freelv.  After  some  good-nat- 
ured chaff  the  Httle  ofroup  scampered  down 
the  steep  incline  at  a  lively  trot,  and  we 
followed  more  cautiously.  Two  leagues 
away,  across  the  i)lain,  were  scattered,  like 
huge  monsters  asleep,  some  queerly  shaped 
mounds,  on  the  highest  of  which  was  what 
remained  of  the  famous  Castle  of  Monteil. 

What  a  revelation  of  the  old  days  these  ruins 

were,  and  how  thev  completed  the  pictures 
evoked  by  the  Castle  of  Ivochafrida  !  Kach 
new  impression  of  my  rambles  In  I. a  Mancha 

confirmed  or  helped  the  others,  giving  me 
the  opportunity  1  sought  of  |)laeing  tlie  ad- 
ventures of  the  Knight  of  the  Rueful  Coun- 
tenance   in    their    orii^inal   settinir.      At    the 

foot  of  the  castle,  in  the  midst  of  the  ureat 

mountain  -  fringed  plateau,  the  eight  or  ten 
lesser  rocky  hills  lie  low  like  vassals  of  the 
forbiddinir  old  castle.  Such  a  siii:ht  as  this, 
typifying  chivalry  and  the  feudal  idea,  must 
have  made  Don  Quixote  happy.     That  im- 

98 


n 


Cv! 


1^  .'vstjj ; 


^  'V-f  V-'.      /         ^^ 
■^1 


.■■w-s> 


^^■m 

I*^^ 


■-mm  i 


:<>    iCT 


I, 


h 


\^^ 


.1--' 


Moiitcil. 


Monteil 


pregnable  fortress,  whose  walls  will  with- 
stand the  injuries  of  time  as  stoutly  as  the 
rock  on  which  they  are  built,  is  like  an 
eagfle's    aerie,    the    home    from     which     the 

master,  with  his  tenantry  in  the  hovels  of 

the  village  at  his  feet,  dominated  the  whole 
tributary  region  around.  From  there  he 
w^ould  start  and  prey  upon  vassals  and  neigh- 
bors. Times  have  changed  for  the  better, 
even  in  Spain. 

The  little  settlement — a  typical  mountain 
village — has    an    Alpine    look,    every    little 

stone  of  its  houses  and  pavements  stieknig 
out,  bleak,  colorless,  gnawed  by  the  hard 
teeth  of  the  elements.  Its  tortuous  streets 
are  haunted  by  fine  specimens  of  picturesque 
humanity,  sane,  clear-eyed,  proud  of  bearing, 
and  dressed  like  their  ancestors  of  three  cen- 
turies ago.  At  the  door  of  the  posada  where 
we  have  a  draught  of  the  dry  heady  wine  of 

Monteil,  the  conversation  turns  naturally  on 
semi-historical,  semi-legendary  events,  which 
are  as  real  to  these  people,  nay,  more  real 
than  the  contemporary  happenings  of  Madrid 
or  Cuba,  and  I  am  urged  to  visit  the  neigh- 
boring fields  where  the  last  battle  of  the  war 
waged  between    Don   Pedro,  the  Cruel,  and 

100 


Monteil 


Henry  of  Trastamara  was  fought,  in  March, 
1369,  and  where  Henry  murdered  his  kino- 
and  l)r()ther,  unfairly  held  down  bv  some 
French  Knights,  whose  conscience  rebelled 
at  striking  Don  Pedro  themselves,  but  per- 
mitted them   to   aid  and  abet  the  foul  deed. 

Our  audience  worked  itself  up  into  a  frenzy 

against  the  French  Knights  of  1 369.  "  These 
pigs  of  foreigners,  we  would  settle  it  with 
them,  but  they  have  never  dared  come  back 
since,"  said  the  most  rabid. 

That  such  pages  of  history  should  remain 
vividly  impressed  on  the  minds  of  these  nine- 
teenth century  ignorant  folk,  and  still   be  so 

loi 


X 


N 


u 


''J.J 


r*''. 


T* 


•^  -^ 


^^ 


^MoniLii. 


Monicil 

much  a  part  of  their  Hfc,  seems  wonderful  to 
us  who,  concerned  mainly  with  the  things  of 

the  immediate  present,  east  but  rare  g-lanees 

into  the  past.  But  when  one  realizes  how 
familiar  these  peasants  are  with  the  old  ro- 
mances, it  seems   as  if   the  moral   of  human 

develoi)ment  and  eivilization  halted  in  plaees, 
for  these  Spaniards  of  to-day  are  very  niueh 
like  the  English  of  the  Elizabethan  period, 
whose  minds  were  hlled  with  the  legendary 

adventures  of  the  heroes  of  precisely  the  same 
romances.  Tusserand,  in  his  "  Encrlish  Novel 
in  the  Time  of  Shakespeare,"  shows  that 
translations  and  adaptations  of  the  ancient 
Portuguese  and  Si)anish  books  of  chivalry, 
of  which  the  ''Amadis"  is  the  ty{)e,  were  as 
popular  in  England  as  they  had  already  be- 
come in    b^rance  and  in  (icrmany.      Eater, 

even,  Johnson  on  a  visit  to  Hisho})  Perry 
found  "  Don  Belianis,"  and  sittiiiLT  in  the 
garden,  dcx'ourcxl  it  to  the  end,  and  one  of 
those  interminable  novels  of  chivalrv  was  a 
gi cat  faxorlte  of  Burke.  I)e  Foe,  in  whose 
novels  the  reaction  against  the  romantic  tra- 
dition  hrst  asserted   itself,  was  greatly  inllu- 

enced  bv  the  Spanish  picaresque  novels,  es- 
pecially the  "  Lazarillo,"  a  great  favorite  also 


103 


Monteil 


of  Cervantes,  which  had  been  in  Spain  a  sa- 
tiric protest  against  romances  and  the  asser- 
tion of  the  common  people,  of  the  every-day 
things  of  life. 

Realism  and  Romanticism  are  no  new 
terms — certainly  not  new  things.  The  con- 
temporary battle  between  the  realistic  novels 
and  the  tales  of  adventure  was  fought  long 

ago  in  old  Spain.  But  while  in  other  west- 
ern European  countries  the  pendulum  has 
since  swung  back  and  forth,  Spain,  living 
in  the  past,  has  to-day  the  same  popular  lit- 
erature which  England  borrowed  from  her 
during  the  Elizabethan  period.  It  was 
greatly  relished    then    and   endured  long  in 


"^  '  -    -  ~T!^'^  ",**«?*' 


\,- 


U     J 


^n  — 


^: 


'/^^>^-  \ 


r^.^< 


'---:  «f 


11 


Y 


\ 


■y 


/:*' 

.•*<^~ 


'•'i 


(„ 


'1. 


Villa /iiiifiosa. 


104 


^l^^l-— .W».g*i»<.  I    Wi  I  ! 


Alontcil 


the  jiuisc  of  stories  for  children  (Steele,  in 

"The  Tattler,"  spcakinii^  of  his  visits  to  his 
friend's  son — the  typieal  l)()y  of  the  period, 
old  enough  to  enjoy  a  good  story — pietures 

him  as  greatly  delighted  with  these  old 
tales). 

The  coarsely  printed  little  chap  books, 
the  single  sheets  adorned  with  rouirh  wood- 
ents  which  r^^^dlers  sell  or  give  as  a  pre- 
mium to  purchasers  in  the  fairs  of  I.a 
Mancha,  all  tell  the  same  old  adventures  of 
Christian  chevaliers,  castle  damsels  and 
Moors.  Galdos,  X'aldes  have  not  made  the 
slightest  headway  in  the  j)opular  imagina- 
tion. They  fmd  their  audience  in  the  cities 
— the  country  is  still  devoted  to  the  en- 
chanted ad\'entures  of  kiil<^hts-crrant  which 
Cervantes  warred  acrainst. 

We  pass  silently  o\'er  the  scene  of  this 
fratricidal  butcherv— the  Castle  of  Monteil 
looming  up  solitary  l)ehind,  while  before  us 
\'illahermosa  stretcfies  a  jnu-plish  silhouette 
of  houses,    like  a  low   battlement   dominated 

by  the  massive  tower  of  its  church — undei-  a 

tragic  sky  with  a  bloody  squadron  of  fantas- 
tically shaped  clouds  scurrvinpr  along  Hke  an 
army  In  rout.      The  north  wind  blows  a  gale, 

1 06 


I 


Monteil 


and  it  is  cold.    July  is  the  warmest  month 

of  the  year  in  these  parts,  yet  even  in  July, 
thoui: h  it  often  is  over  a  hundred  in  the  shade 
during  the  hot  hours  of  the  day,  heavy  jackets 

and  mantles  are  worn  morning  and  evening. 
At  the  miserable  posada  we  are  glad  of  a 
place  in  the  circle  of  silent  guests  squatted 
before  the  scanty  fire  of  brushwood,  while  on 

our  backs  the  wind  blows  from  the  doorless 
arched  opening  into  the  court-yard. 

Our  return   journey  to  Argamasilla  took 
some  sixteen  hours  over  a  rarelv  used  trail. 


f>  -•i--v-.,<-— - 


|ii?0^' 


-'y\ 


^V^;  -  >> 

->-..  9  4 


107 


/ 


i'  f  ■  •         .■■■  "»/.'■• ... :   •    ''^>V'^'^::;-^-C'''^^^^^ 


•.-,5-     •      ,.yif  ,,:5?A^t     "'       li      r       - 


■../I 


ic^ 


<3 


••>* 
^ 


Cm 


Monteil 


cutting:  straight  across  country.  The  sce- 
nery of  savagely  bare  plateaus,  tawny  and 
rocky  and  fragrant  little  wooded  valleys, 
reminded  me  of  the  Corsican  Mountains, 
probably  because  my  companion  had  cau- 
tioned me  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  and  have 
my  gun  handy.      Ezechiel's  mongrel  cur,  he 

who  was  never  to  be  seen  and  followed  us 

in  the  shadow  of  the  cart,  must  be  added 
to  my  list  of  knowing  brutes,  for,  as  if  con- 
scious of   his   duty,    he   now   kept   patrolling 

the  ground  before  and  about  us  in  a  most 
thorough  and  business-like  manner.  There 
are  no  brigands  in  La  Mancha,  but  any 
arricro  whom  one  meets  might  feel  tempted 

to  shoot  someone,  and  run  the  risk  of  getting 

a  few  cents  or  even  nothing  for  his  trouble. 
We  stopped  to  lunch  by  the  side  of  a  well, 
a  favorite  resort  of  flocks  of  wild  pigeons  who 
kept  circling  above  our  heads  and  showing  by 
their  sudden  charges  how  they  resented  our 
intrusion.  Farther  on  the  temptation  to 
hunt  could  hardly  be  resisted — all  one  had  to 

do  to  bag  one's  supper  was  to  stroll  along  the 
edire  of  the  woods  while  the  muleteer  started 
the  rabbits  by  his  shouts.  On  approaching 
Argamasilla  we   followed    the    little    canal 

log 


Montcil 


which,  with  the  Guadiana,  makes  the  territo- 
ry about  the  pueblo  productive.  Each  little 
field  taps  the  canal  at  a  fixed  hour  and  for  a 
certain  length  of  time,  the  amount  of  water 
taken  being  carefully  measured  and  paid  for 
accordingly.      From  Ezechiel's  explanations, 

it  was  clear  that  the  manaorement  of  this 
complicated  system  of  irrigation,  perfect  m 
spite  of  its  primitiveness,  is  even  to  its  de- 
tails that  which  I  had  seen  used  in  the  oases 
of  northern  Africa.  Here  is,  therefore, 
another  one  of  those  valuable  leoracies  of  the 
Moors  against  which  one  stumbles  constantly 
in  La  Mancha. 


V 

El  Toboso 


no 


M^ 


1 

i         i 


■••^^ 


'^^ii;r  ^^ 


^ 


-.'\ 


;''i;;jiiijisi^-; 


At 


■:J^m:'il-^> 


<3 


^ 


EI  Toboso 


STARTING  from  Argamasilla  before 
davlioht,  our  little  mule  had  trudcred 
durino[    eiirht    lone:    hours  the   denuded, 

inhospitable  plain  of  La  Mancha,  where  the 
unchecked  cold  blasts  from  the  Sierras  hold 
wild  riot  in  the  winter,  and  which  was  now 
lying  j)rostrate  under  the  furious  caresses  of 

the  sun  ;  her  parehed  soil  bursting  now  and 

again  with  dull  sounds  like  the  moans  of  a 
creature  in  pain.  When  we  became  aware  of 
the  })roximit>'  of  the  highway  we  were  look- 
ing for,  it  was  by  some  ruins,  inevitable  con- 
comitants of  this  Land  of  the  Dead.  Before 
these  silent,  melancholy  remains  and  in  the 
absence  of  the  living,  one  can  but  feel  the 

presence  of  the  dead.  'Tis  as  if  the  past  cen- 
turies were  walking  by  the  side  of  the  trav- 
eller, keeping  him  company,  and  little  imagi- 
nation is  needed  to  people  again  this  great 
artery  of  human  communications,  thrown 
across  the  undefiled  country  by  the  Romans, 
vrith  ll)erians,  Goths,  and  Moors,  with  Span- 

11"^ 


1:1     'InhflSO 

iartls  of  the  lime  when  Spain  was  the  most 
powerful  country  of  the  eivihzeti  worUi,  and 
sec  Isabella,  Charles   \'.,  the  somlire    Philij), 

speeding^  on  in  all  the  splendid  paraphernalia 
of  royalty,  and  with  their  retinue  of  haughty 
Castilians.  What  a  sense  of  the  swinor  of  his- 
tory  one  has  in  such  places,  and  before  tlie 
eternity  of  nature  how  ej)henieral  and  in- 
consequential human  life  seems.  Ezechiel 
brings  back  some  echoes  of  a  past  of  which 

he  is  ignorant,  in  calling  this  road  arrccifc, 

the  Arab  name  which  has  remained  in  the 
Manchegan  dialect,  one  of  the  manv  |)atent 
souvenirs  of  five  centuries  of  Moorish  domi- 
nation. 

The  ruins  were  of  an  important  \^enta, 
such  a  caravanserai  as  was  found  every  few 
leagues  when  all  travelling  and  traffic  be- 
tween Madrid  and  Seville  passed  alon.(i  this 

royal  highway.  If  the  ingenious  surmises  of 
the  learned,  who  have  industriously  erected 
their  ponderous  commentaries  all  around 
Cervantes's  romance,  are  true,  this  Venta  had 
the  rare  good  fortune  of  being  visited  by 
Don  Quixote  in  the  beginning  of  his  wan- 
derings.    It  is  there,  in   the  court-yard  now 

empty  and  deserted,  that   the  Knight  of  the 

114 


•  / 


J5- 


M'       .4/'  /, 


';!  1 


\  - 


'% 


;  ■v 


V. 


.^1  ^^- 

1 
I 


^ 


\ 


■ .' V  •; 


LI  Tohoso 


Rueful  Countenance  kept  his  nocturnal  vigil- 
at-arms   preceding  that   morning  when   the 

rowdy,  canny  innkeeper  made  him  a  knio;ht. 
To  me  let  it  be  only  what  it  surely  is,  and 
that  is  enough — one  of  the  rare  pages  of  the 
days  of  old,  the  mute  witness  of  the  comedies 
and  tragedies,  of  the  pleasures  and  troubles 
of  some  of  our  predecessors  in  the  human 
procession.     The  advent  of  great  personages, 

setting  in  a  flutter  inn-keeper  and  servants, 

and  remembered  and  retold  for  many  years  ; 
the  merry  and  the  sad  reunions,  the  ro^rueries 
picaresque  incidents,  are  blotted  out  of  our 
world.  Only  these  crumbling  walls  remain, 
pegs  on  which  the  mind  in  passing  hangs  its 
imaginings  of  forgotten  people.  And  how 
soon  these  last  vestiges  of  the  Venta  shall  fall, 

submerged  in  the  inevitable  tide  of  oblivion  ! 
Poor  humanity,  w^hose  futile  scratchino-s  on 
the  bosom  of  Mother  Earth  are  but  the  mak- 
ing of  its  grave. 

Finding  the  w^ell  empty,  we  resume  our 
journey  toward  the  road  guard-house,  two 
miles  away,  to  find  it  closed,  and  on  north- 
ward again,  over  the  white  road  ablaze  in 

the  furnace  heat.  Under  the  cart-cov^ering 
the  scorching  sun-rays  liquefy  one's  brain  ;  the 

ii6 


/  . .  > 


■  <  •  •    ■■ 


.f ),-,,■■:■;.  ^:te.xi    (,>/M 


<^>t!t. 


'^•V-'    ' 


>  '. 


>  ^ 

m 


El  Tohoso 


landscape  around  shimmers  under  the  same 
trembhng  of  the  atmosphere  that  I  had  seen 

in  the  Sahara.  Some  olive-trees  with  their 
fantastic  trunks  and  branches  gnarled  and 
crooked  seem  the  vivid  personifications  of  the 
tortures  of  the  heat.     A  mendicant,  seated  in 

the  dust  scratching  himself,  is  the  first  man 
we  see  on  this  royal  road.  Later  two  men 
pass  us.  "  Poor  ones  also,"  says  Ezechicl. 
Queer  fashion  for  mendicants  to  carry  their 
guns  on  their  shoulders  !  But  then  it  is  a 
general  custom  in  La  Mancha.  These  two 
fellow^s  look  like  opera  supernumeraries,  ex- 


'.-K- 


,<    r- 


""^.- 


1"%.  - 


'  j'-k"^     "  Vv 


v^. 


i^^, 


I'- 


cept  that  their  bronzed   heads  are  finely  chis- 
elled and  full  of  character,  and  that  they  are 

ragged  bevond  any  possible  imagination. 
We  attempt  a  hasty  lunch   in  the  shadow 


ii8 


El  1  oboso 


of  our  cart,  into  which  also  the  poor  mule, 
lying  down,  stretches  her  head  for  comfort. 
It  is  hard  work  to  eat  without  drinking,  but 
such  an  experience  has  its  value  for  the 
future  enjoyment  of  that  commonplace  of 
life — the  drinking  of  a  glass  of  water. 

Toward  four  in  the  afternoon  we  find  an- 
other guard-house  and  pure  cool  water. 
What  a  pleasure  it  is  to  see  the  dulness 
leave  the  eyes  of  our  mule  while  she  drinks 

in  long-measured  draughts,  her  legs  and  neck 
bracing  up,  her  whole  countenance  changed 
— alert  now,  ready  for  fresh  exertions.  The 
brave  brute  ! 

Across  country  apin  through  a  vfo-ii,  a 

meadow  where  from  the  tall  reeds,  out  of 
which  baskets  are  made,  pop  out,  like  strange 
flowers,  the  heads  of  young  horses  and  mules 

standing  still,  in  herds,  with  their  feet  in  the 
water  of  our  friend  the  Guadiana. 

Then  the  road  leading  up  hill  after  hill,  we 
alight  and  literally  put  our  shoulders  to  the 

w^heel.  The  character  of  the  country  changes. 
Climbing  the  first  spurs  of  the  mountains 
which  form  the  northern  limit  of  the  plains 
of  La  Mancha,  we  enter  one  of  the  richest 
agricultural   districts  of   Spain.      Yet   at  this 

119 


El    Toboso 


El   Toboso 


11 


time  of  the  year  there  is  no  sicrn  of  ve<rela- 
tion.  The  bare  earth  alone  ori'C<^'ts  the  eve  in 
desolate  hills,  all  cut  up  with  ravines  caused 

by  the  spnnor  Hoods. 

It  is  night  and  ten  o'clock,  when  we  reach 
Herencia,  having  travelled  some  tifty  miles 
during  the  day,  mostly  on  bad  roads. 

The  inn  with  its  sign,  a  wooden  cross, 
dangling  above  the  door,  was  a  grand  place 
after  the  hardships  of  the  dav.  And  as  the 
Wnita  de  Ouesada  which  wc  had  seen  in  the 

morninp^  loomed  up  l)efore  Don  Quixote's 
vision  as  a  "castle  with  four  towers,  and 
spires  of  shining  silver  not  wanting,  draw- 
bridge and  moats,  and  all  the  appurtenances 
with  which  such  places  are  painted."  So  to 
my  mind  appeared  the  little  inn  and  its  pos- 
sibilities. 

But  whereas  a  drove  of  ho^-s  orrccted  the 

chevalier,    we    found    an    interestin<r    band    of 

o 

revellers.  In  honor  of  the  feast-dav  upon 
which  we  had  happened  to  stumble  un- 
awares, some  thirty  men  were  asseml)lcd 
round  a  huge  table  in  the  little  courtvard, 
dimly  and  whimsically  lighted  bv  the  dancing 
flames  of  some  hanging  lamps  which  though 

modern  were  roughly  made  by  hand  and  of 


I20 


.-.-:^?l 

•^'^•..*^_» 


^   - 


./"TV  r. 


m. 


an  ancient  model,  the  same  as  of  those  lamps 
of  Roman  decadent  style  found  in  Pom- 
peii. These  men  were  energetically  at  work 
getting  through  a  Homeric  feast,  where,  I 
learned  afterward,  some  fifty  pounds  of  beef, 
thirty  of  bread,  and  dozens  of  chickens  were 
disposed    of    in    the    good    old    fashion   and 


121 


t  li 


1 1 


■  r     -*  °^ 


\\-  ^'^     I  -  Vi 


'M'J  p. 


I.,    N, 


feV'-l-A 


:]m 


■->' 


■•  i^is 


.';'■ 


'I'll 


/•■■if '^11    '^te'     '^r  >  ifK^v^^l! 


V* 


t) 


El  Toboso 


washed  down  with  wine  ad  libitiiuL     The 

scene  had  an  unusual  fascination  in  that  the 
participants  were  silent  as  if  the  affair  were 
purely  a  matter  of  business.  It  }>roved  to 
be  the  dinner  offered  onee  a  year,  in  aeeord- 
anee  with  an  ancient  custom  transmitted  un- 
broken, l)v  some  rich  proprietor  to  his 
dependants    and    the  arricros  of   liis  estate. 

r>.cehicl  informed  me  that  the  sturdv  feHows 

had  prepared  themselves  for  the  event  by 
an  uniisualh"  scant  diet,  as  was  evident  by 
their   iroinjj:    throuirh    their   work    like   well 

oiled  maehines. 

We  fared  finelv  ourselves  over  that  ])enin- 
sular  dish — the  rabbit — the  animal  found  on 
the  ancient  coins  of  the  countr\'   and   testify- 

in<x  to  the  eubnary  ^iri'atitude  of  people  not 
too  spoiled  in  these  matters.  After  our  din- 
ner 1  would  have  done  the  rabbit  a  like 
honor  had    1    liad  the  ehoosing  of  eoin  de- 

sii^ns. 

There  was  a  dance  afterward — very  diirni- 
fied — a  mixed  affair — local,  with  a  dash  of 
civilized    notions    thrown    in.   a    delii^htfullv 

clumsy  mixture  of  the  provincial  and  the 
civilized  dance. 

It  was  as  if  while  attempting  to  disport 

123 


. } 


»: 


i> 


El   l\)l)Oso 


^3 


fei 


:v^ 


»    it, 


^^ 


u 


himself  after  our  own  fashion,  a  half  peasant, 
half  Moor,  had  been  unable  to  divest  himself 

of  the  ways  that  had  become  the  most  ri.iiid 

parts  of  his  nature.  In  such  way  the  polka 
was  half  a  cachucha,  half  a  bolero,  and  the 
waltz  smacked  of  the  zapatera  with  its  queer 

contortions  of  the  torso,  and  the  rhythmic 
beat  of  heels  and  toes. 

But  alas,  Hercncia  was  the  most  important 
place   I   had  as  yet  come  across  in  my  Man- 

chegan  rambles,  and  the  most  disaprreeable 
sign  of  its  thrift  and  prosperity— the  men 
dressed  in  the  universal  civilized  orarb  that 
I  met  with  on  all  sides  while  foUowinir  the 
stream  of  people  toward  the  sanctuary,  where 


124 


El  Toboso 


was  being  celebrated  the  feast  of  Sant'  Lago, 
the  patron  saint  of  Spain,  ''  Don  Saint  James, 
the  Moorslayer,  one  of  the  most  valiant 
Saints  and  Knights  of  the  squadrons  of 
Christ — that  ever  the  world  had  and  Heaven 
has  now"  (Don  Quixote,  Part  II.,  Chapter 
LVIII.).     Near  the  entrance  of  the  church, 

on  a  little  table  covered  with  a  napkm,  was  a 

large  platter  full  of  coins.     Its  keeper,  an  old 


v^ij^ 


.*irc»= 


^^^:^ 


i. 


12n 


El  Toboso 


X 


jt''XJet<-».     -~^— '         -  - ■ 


lady,  the  traditional  duenna,  sunk  in  a  low 
chair,  and  lost  in  the  folds  of  her  mantilla, 
kept  fluttering  her  fan  vigorously  and  at  in- 
tervals, interrupting  her  constant  mumbling 

of  prayers,  she  turned  to  the  next  person  to 

say,  "Jesus,  it's  hot!"  My  little  contribu- 
tion is  gracefully  acknowledged  in  that  way. 
From  the  church  door  a  company  of  sol- 
diers lined  the  way  to  the  altar,  resplendent 
with  its  hundreds  of  lighted  candles  shining 
on  pictures  and  marble  columns,  and  cande- 


126 


El  Toboso 


labra  and  the  profusion  of  gaudy  paper  flow- 
ers set  in  hui^e  vases. 

The  low  murmur  of  prayers  grows  louder 
and  quieter  with  the  faint  suggestion  of  a 
rhythm,  that  of  a  national  tune. 

In  a  side  chapel,  before  an  old  painting 
black  with  age  and  bright  with  real  jewels, 
some  silver  ornaments,  a  gold  diadem  and 
bracelets  glued  on  the  canvas,  a  crowd  of 

women  on  their  knees  form  a  picture  a  la 
Ribera,  with  beautiful  oppositions  of  intense 
light  and   black   shadows.       While  all  heads 

are  devoutly  bowed,  a  single  profile,  straight 

and  hard,  remains  erect — that  of  a  voung  girl 
of  the  pure  Arab  type,  with  the  large  black 
eyes  full  of   flame  and  shadows,  with  full  lips 

firmly  and  finely  drawn  and  sunk  in  the 
corners.  A  strangely  sensuous  face  which, 
in  a  haughty  way,  in  the  consciousness,  per- 
haps, of  superb  animality,  seemed  to  wonder 

what  the  scene  before  it  might  have  to  do 
with  real  life.     Whv  should  that  sin^-le  fiir- 

ure,  seemingly  out  of  keeping  with  its  en- 
vironment, appear  to  me  the  most  typical 
one  ?  Perhaps  because  of  the  idiosyncrasies 
of  my  Don  Quixote  self  and,  I  think,  per- 
haps also  because  it  was  the  one  sincere,  in- 


127 


^:i 


.  I 


-•^X-  lU^.^*— S^^.:    /p  ;,•?        -t 


■''^?VT' 


/  \^'*i  1^^'^ 


I 

-5 


/ 


.  '; 


■feff    f^ij-j^'i,.     V-i 


'•.  I., 


^^    i\ 


r\ 


El  Toboso 


voluntary  expression  there  of  these  Southern 
natures,  whieh,  having  no  deeplv  religious 
feelings,  take  life  after  a  manner  eminently 

practical.    She  cast  culd,  disrespectful  crlances 

toward  the  devout  paraphernalia  on  the  chapel 
walls,  bringing  to  mind  the  levity  with  whieh 
in  the  age  of  the  Inquisition  Cervantes  spoke 
of  such  things  :  *'  These  tombs  in  which  the 
bodies  are  of  these  great  lords,  have  they  sil- 
ver lamps  in  front  of  them,  or  are  the  walls 
of  their  chapels  adorned  with  crutches,  grave 
clothes,  periwigs,  legs  and  eyes  of  wax, 
.  .  .  ?"  savs  Sancho  in  Don  Quixote, 
Part  II.,  Chapter  VIII.  It  is  a  far  cry  from 
the  peasant's  disregard  to  the  liberal  indiffer- 
ence of  a  great  Churchman.  Vet  under  his 
hood  the  intellectual  face  of  Cervantes's  pow- 
erful friend.  Archbishop  Sandoval,  Inquisitor- 
General,  must  have  worn  a  quizzical  smile  at 
the  audaeity  of  that  book  and  author  he  so 
authoritatively  i)rotected — otherwise  the  one 
might  have  ended  in  an  an/o  da  Je,  and  the 
other  in  a  duno^con. 

The  sky  is  studded  with  an  infinitude  of 
stars.  The  streets  are  dark  but  for  the  few 
lights  of  some  stands  where  fruit,  bread, 
pastry,  and  the  omnipresent  ^>-(?r/;t?;/:(;.^'  (chick 


1 29 


Ei    i  oboso 


peas)     are     sold. 

The  1)00} )le  arc  or- 
der! \',  nioviiiir  <o 
quietly  that  one 
misses    the    exu- 

bcrancc  of  feel- 
ing, the  bursts  uf 

merriment  of  tlie  Italians  on  siieh  occasions. 
No   motions   are   made  which   would  disturb 

the  dicrnified  folds  of  their  capes  and  mantil- 
las. Few  words  are  exchanixcd,  vet  one 
catches  snatches  of  those  sententious  Castilian 
proverbs,  full  of  sap  and  sense,  which  are  too 

near  the  seriousness  of  life  to  bring  a  laugh. 

130 


sir    i» 


■  .A/  '    I  '■    -->r\  :.       \.fi  ;:■'*    ''---. 


^'^"^cn 


hi  the  City  Hall  Toiler,  Alcazar  dc  Sau  Juan. 


jsjaa 


\  o 


i;\ 


./-'T-.' 


■■.■■jn 

■    ,  v2l  :  «Si 


■f 


d/ 


;  1  ■ 


^,. 


i 


El  Toboso 


Two  young  men  strolling  about  the  groups 
pause ;  at  a  few  twangs  of  their  guitar  the 

silent  crowd  presses  around  them.  The  two 
players  face  one  another.  One  plays  the 
accompaniment,  the  other,  with  that  astonish- 
ing natural  virtuosity  which  mimics  real  talent 
so  well  that  one  must  know  much  to  deteet 
the  difference,  plays  the  air.  Their  poses  are 
characteristic — the  virtuoso  standing  straight, 

his  head  thrown  back,  the  accompanist  with 

bent  body  resting  on  one  foot  and  his  eyes 
riveted  on  his  partner's  guitar.  When  the 
song  is  finished  a  few  low  claps  of  apprecia- 
tion are  heard  while  the  crowds  noiselessly 
disperse. 

But  in  the  distance  a  louder,  sensuous  voice 
sincfs  a  Malao-itcna,  which  the  wild  expressive 
twangs   of   the   guitar   punctuate.      There    is 

fury  in  the  accompaniment,  passion  in  the 
voice,  and  this  reveals  another  side  of  these 
peo])le's  natures — the  smouldering  fire  under 

the  ashes. 

As  we  come  out  of  the  pueblo  in  the 
early  morning  a  street  merchant  is  already 
at  work  near  the  market-j)lace,  offering  his 

stock  of  goods  at  auction  to  the  country 
folks,    the    pilgrims,    who    arc    getting    ready 

133 


i^T"*^  «««^l^3 


El  Toboso 


to  return  home.  It  Is  the  one  occasion  for 
most  of  those  who  come  to  town  but  once 
a  twelvemonth,  on  such  a  feast  day,  to 
make    their    necessary    purchases    for    the 

whole  year.      And  this  peculiar  demand  has 
brought   out  a  class  of   "  drummers,"  whose 
life  is  spent  in  moving  over  the  country,  from 
fiesta  to  file st a. 

Reaching  the  high\va\^  outside  the  town, 
theie  goes  before  us  a  troop  of  chattering 
pilgrims,  solid   little   women  bedizened   with 

bright  kerchiefs  on  heads  and  shoulders, 
mounted  a-to})  of  the  loads  on  their  little 
donkevs.  The  dust  clouds,  <^loritied  bv  the 
rising  sun,  make  a  halo  about  the  gay  ])icture 

full  of  movement. 

We  pass  them,  look  back,  and  lo  I  the 
charm  has  vanished.  The  cavalcade  is  as 
commonplace  as  possible.  It  was  the  sun 
alone  which  made  the  i)retty  picture. 

As  we  now  turn  to  look  at  the  receding 
town,  its  silhouette  clear  on  the  tawny  cur- 
tain of  the  Sierras  l)ehind,  it  takes  the  be- 
witching appearance  of  a  fresh  and  damty 
vision  in  white  garb,  softened  and  beautified 
bv  the  tender  liiiht  of  the  morninii:.  In  re- 
gard  to  beauty,  Spain  is  the  democratic  land 

134 


N^:-  ^^ 


.^.^^^S,^' 


One   <y'  t/te    Ancient  AIiL's   at    Crijitant 


k 


^^^,  ,^^s 


Near  Crijitano. 


A 


I 


1 


Y 


A 


El  Toboso 


/^?r  cxailcncc.  Decrepit  buildings,  half- 
ruined  villages,  ragged  mendicants,  have 
their  daily  hour  of  unrivalled  splendor.  Di- 
lapidated objects  and  commonplace  scenes 
touched  by  the  sun  of  the  south  are  turned 
bv  this  incomparable  magician  into  visions 

of  loveliness.  In  the  course  of  the  day  the 
crlorious  \Vr\\t  dwclls  on  each  detail  of  the 
landscape,  in  turn  giving  it  inexpressible 
charm    and    beautv,    and    leaving   it   a    dull 

corpse  whose  life  has  de})arted. 

And   as  we  go  on    our  journey  this   cabn 
morning,    there    goes    also    with    us    in    the 

gutters  on  each  side  of  the  well-kept  road  a 


V."' 


.._a^  AM^^  J.H-^^--      -^-^--^vT-^^    JV^vL 


.    :>: — '^'  -      -'-;'^;^- --i<>r" 


h  J> 


^'-^f. 


-r!rT-'-"--/ __...•—::_-..-•     HA^ft.-.--  •  ^'    C\>J/iv'^s^:rS?P7^--^^:  V 


stream  of  hreworks— tiny  blue  flowers,  which 
a^'-ainst  the  neutral  background  of   parched 


J 


J 
'  I 


13: 


hi 

Vi 


Kl   Toboso 


grass  and  pierced  by  the  slanting  rays  of  the 
sun,  are  transfigured  into  radiant  jewels. 

All  too  soon  do  we  come  to  Alcazar  de 
San  Juan,  a  town  of  some  commercial  im- 
portance since  the  railroad  branch  to  \^alen- 
cia  joins  here  the  main  road  from  Madrid 
to  Seville.  Alcazar  naturally  boasts  of  its 
station  with  its  '' biiff'ct.''  But  far  from  mc 
is  the  desire  to  eat  from  a  tabic  covered  with 
a  table-cloth  bearing-  the  evidences  of  much 
service,  Spanish  imitations  of  English  steaks, 
or  to  drink  so-called  Bordeaux  wine  from  a 

^lass,  mstead  of  black,  rouuh  \  al  A<i  Pcnas 
from  a  skin  or  earthenware  bottle— and  listen 
to  the  im})ossible  Ilispano-Franco-bLnglish 
talk  of  the  waiter.     There  is  enoui'h  k;cal 

color  left  all  around  this  buffet,  symbol  of 
nineteenth-century  civilization,  which,  like  a 
fungus  amidst  the  grass  and  little  plants  of 
a  prairie,  is  here  stranded  in  provincial  and 

old-time  surroundincrs.  We  take  a  look  at 
the  adjacent  country  from  the  tower  of  the 
Town  Hall,  and  have  a  hasty  breakfast  and 
rest  at  the  fine  fonda,  whose  monumental 

facade  stands  on  a  large  plaza,  the  market- 
place, where  an  amusing  spectacle  is  going 
on  under   the  watchful    eye   of  a   municipal 

13S 


l'. 


Ms 


■€ 


/ 


/;/   Crijitano. 


El  Toboso 


employee  armed  with  a  short  broom.  In  the 
brief  intervals  between  his  exchansre  of  civil- 
ities  and  gossip  with  passers-by,   he  plays  at 

sweeping   the  pavement  with  such  lordly 

poses  and  measured  movements  as  would  be- 
fit a  grandee,  if  such  an  one,  which  Heaven 
forbid,    were    sunk   to   so   lowlv   a    pastime. 

Market  hour  is  over,  but  a  few  peasants  still 
linger  in  the  hope  of  disposing  of  their  stock 
in  trade  that  they  have  spread  out  in  the  dust 
on  the  pavements.     They  shout  and  sing  the 

virtues  of  each  particular  fruit  and  vegetable, 
paying  extravagant  compliments  to  every 
housekeeper  who  comes  on  the  scene  or  pok- 
ing fun  at  one  another,  grumbling  at  Provi- 
dence and  bad  luck,  all  in  a  jolly  spirit,  and 
with  rough,  strong  voices  and  rip})les  of 
laughter.  There  are  some  women  among 
them,    handsome,    in    multi-colored    dresses, 

and  it  is  of  one  of  them  that  we  buy  our  pro- 
vision of  fruit.  "  l^aya  7/s/('(/  iO)i  Jhos^ 
"  God  be  with  you,"  she  says  as  1  leave. 
Then  callinor  nie  back,  "Caballero,  when 
you  iro  home  tell  vour  (rirl  that  thev  are 
pretty  fine  women,  the  women  of  .Alcazar. 
Good   in    business,    and    good    in    love,    and 

mind  you,  Senor,  thev  love  but  once  I " 

140 


El  Toboso 


SittiniT  on  a  bench  under  the  entrance- 
way  of  the  inn — the  largest  we  have  as  yet 
seen — I  get  an  idea  of  what  such  a  place  as 

the  Venta  de  Cardenas,  or  that  of  Ouesada, 

may  have  been  in  the  old  days.  In  spite  of 
the  inevitable  dirt  and  slovenliness,  the  place 
has    an    unmistakable    cachet    of    prosperity, 


'       i  111''  *    Z'*^ 


^* 


I      \ 


v?. 


and  the  cheery  innkeeper  and  her  helpers 
move  about  busily.  In  front  of  us  some 
female  servants  are  sewing,  repairing  sheets, 

141 


«-  ^^ffitiHe»i««^%§MiS£^9^;siic-w#>^«(»f>'«in'^^ 


El  Toboso 


fashioninor  orarments  for  the  master's  help. 
A  hufToon's  sole  occupation  is  to  sweep  the 
Hoor,  while  a  collea^crue  o;oes  after  him 
sprinklinor  it  the  whole  day  loner.  The  bio- 
fat  ama,  with  a  face  like  a  Roman  senator, 
strides  all  over  the  place,  kcepin^o;  a  watchful 
eye  on  details,  and  ^^rivinor  imperative  orders 
in  a  voice  which  sounds  like  a  clarion  blast. 
The  amo.  with  bunch  of  kevs  dano-lino-  from 

nis  belt,  sees  to  the  filllnor  of  wlne-l)ottles,  to 
the  killinor  of  poultry,  to  the  cuttlnir  of  meat. 
The  cooks — at  work  under  our  eyes — are  two 

142 


El  Toboso 


old  witches,  who   alternately  disappear  and 

reappear  in  the  smoke  of  the  wood  lire. 
The  aina,  who,  in  spite  of  her  bulk,  is  here, 
there,  everywhere  at  once,  comes  up  behind 

them,  often  unexpectedly  snatching  stew- 
pans,  tasting  the  food,  adding  ingredients, 
and  upbraiding  the  witches  in  the  grandest 
style,  with  that  magnificent  organ  aforemen- 
tioned.    However,  the  real  ruler  of  this  >;/. 

da  a|)pcars  to  be  a  spoiled  little  boy,  hardly 
three  years  okl,  precocious  and  saucv — the 
Benjamin    of   the   large    family.        He    keeps 


-J 


HP 


I 


143 


,s'.*iia^>^  ~«*i3«^*'.  ■■^m'mi&x^^^^* 


•^ 


^ 


-.^■v^iv-Miy   5-".''.'.'  •"  •  ■"*»<»*. 


'■^i 


MB^f 


^ 


r^         ^-.\ 


> 


^?f^.^,--,;;J 


^.  / 


.•^  ;?'5^*  s^tfe-  ;t^-^-     '  --^•'       !  5^5^    .' 


t.\ 


KS 


KEiV« -J^-!^ 


:^< 


-<-/v      <.  —:= 


M 


^ 


^ 


El  Toboso 


his  special  criada  busy — a  handsome  young 
woman,  in  orange  skirt,  red  stockings,  and 
black   shoes   (oh,   luxury !),  who   looks  the 

picture  of  helplessness,  when,  blushing  pret- 
tily, she  casts  frightened  glances  toward  the 
ania    at    every  fresh    evidence    of   the   little 

rogue's  mischievous  spirit. 

Alcazar  de  San  Juan  and  its  fo7ida  hav- 
ing passed  out  of  sight  were  nothing  more 
to  me  than  one  of  the  souvenirs  of  my  jour- 
ney added  to  the  others — a  sharp  negative, 
indelibly  preserved  in  the  camera  of  my 
l)rain — when  we  caught  sight  of  the  wind- 
mills   of    the    Campo    de    Crijitano,    one  of 

which,  it  is  said,  our  knight  met  with  in  his 

celebrated  adventure.  Poor  Quixote  does 
not  seem  so  mad  after  all  when  one  first  sees 
this  row  of  mills  set  irregularly  on   the  crest 

of  a  hill  and  looking  like  nothing  one  has 
ever  seen,  more  like  a  collection  of  queer» 
|)rimitive  toys  stuck  there  by  the  weird  ca- 
])rice   of  a  lunatic.     As  one  approaches  and 

views  them  one  by  one,  these  clumsy-looking 
affairs,  propped  up  like  very  aged  persons, 
are  thoroughly  fantastic.  No  wonder  the 
worthy  knight  mistook  them  for  giants!  On 
his    native    soil    Cervantes's    book   takes   an 

145 


11    loboso 


%rf~ 


'^^^ 


•^' 


-••3 


added  pungency.     How  much  it  is  of  the 

country,  how  true  to  life  are  the  characters, 
descriptions  and  language,  one  needs  to  live 
here  among  the  people  to  know.  There  is  a 
great  charm  in  stumbhng  at  all  instants  on 
thinors  it  has  made  familiar  to  us.  For  ex- 
ample,  not  only  do  the  inhabitants  of  certain 
villa<res  of  La  Mancha  dress  to-day  like 
Sancho  Panza,  but  all  Manchegans  are  mines 
of  those  old  sayings  in  which  the  wisdom 
of  generations  is  crystallized  into  proverbs 
which,  like  him,  they  constantly  use  to  sum 
up  tersely  a  situation. 

Near  these  mills  we  stop  to  inquire  of  a 
w^ater-cart  driver  our  shortest  way  to  the 
pueblo.     Ezechiel  got  the  desired  informa- 


146 


Toboso 


•         • 


tion.  nntl  tlicn  ''  Broilier,"  he  said,  ''\\    1-  wa- 
ter you  are  carrying  ?  " 

**  Fine    drinkinu  -  water,    yea.      Don't    max 

want  ^(une  ?" 

*' Thcinks,  no  ;    our  bottle  is  half  full,  still." 
"  Cascara  /     It  must  be  hot,  have  some  of 
mine,"  answered  the  man. 

Our  bottle  is  filled  with  sweet  fresh  water, 
and  Ezechiel  calls  the  man,  who  is  going 
back  to  his  cart  : 

''  Flere,  here's  a  pataquilla"  (a  cent),  "  and 

we  are  obliged  to  you." 


"        .  '-V-.    ^'     i^^'     V^V         '^^r 


^--~: 


.4- 


'  ^3jW)r  - ' 


\    — ...    •  .. .   ...y.-^jj!'.'::./ .••. 


^^ -.itttlt       i  . 


ii 


"No,  brother,  I  don't  want  any  money,  I 
am  glad  to  give  you  good  water,  that's  all." 
"  But  we  all  have  to  live  by  our  labor,  and 


147 


El  Toboso 


you  have  to  drive  many  miles  to  get  that 
water." 

"  BiLoio,  but  it's  better  to  make  a  friend 
than  to  make  ten  dollars,"  then,  catching  a 
glimpse  of  me  :  ''  All  right,  brother,"  he  says 
to  Ezechiel,  ''  I  see  the  caballero  can  better 
afford  to  give  this  money  than  I  to  be  with- 
out it,  and  so  I'll  take  the  money." 

I  buttered  the  pataquilla  with  a  cigarette, 
and  added  the  valued  courtesy  of  ofifering  him 

llg-ht  from  my  cigar.  He  stood  caressing 
our  mule  while  giving  us  again  instructions 
as  to  our  road.  Under  the  scant  protection 
of  a  handkerchief,  wound  turban-like  around 

his  head,  his  fine  brown  face  was  aglow  in 
the  sunlight,  and  the  blood  gave  a  flamboy- 
ant hue  to  his  firm  cheeks  like  the  rich  color 

of  a  hard  red  apple.     His  black  eyes  flashed 

and  the  veins  of  his  neck  and  forehead 
bulged  out  ;  he  was  the  picture  of  a  superbly 
healthy,  careless,  happy  creature. 

After  he  had  gone  Ezechiel  said,  senten- 
tiously  :  ''That  pataquilla  won't  do  him  any 
good,  senor,  for  para  dar  y  tencr,  scso  cs 
nicncstcry      To  give  or  to  keep  hath  need 

of  brains.    ''  He'll  drink  or  smoke  it  as  soon 

as  he  reaches  the  village." 

148 


El  Toboso 


Cam|)o  de  Crijitano,  named  for  the  pro- 
ductive   land,     the    rich     fields     around     it 

(campo-field),  is  one  of  the  three  or  four 

rare  specimens  of  the  best  Manchegan  pue- 
blos. In  spite  of  its  well-to-do  air,  of  its  bi^ 
houses,  some  of   which    have  glass  windows, 

stone  carvings  and  ornaments  of  wrought 
iron,  it  preserves  as  strong  a  local  flavor  as 
its  humbler  sisters.  Being  fortunately  re- 
moved from  the  railroad,  it  remains,  in  spite 

of  its  prosperity,  an  old-time  community. 
Having  variety  in  its    picturesqueness  and 

dignity  in  many  of  its  buildings,  it  is  good 
to  find  it  Manchegan  to  the  core,  in  nowise 

different  from  the  poorest  villages  of  this 
land  of  enchantment  where  the  old  costumes, 
habits  and  old  houses  have  remained  un- 
changed for  ages,  for  centuries. 

The  Campo  is  dozing  when  at  high  noon 
we  meander  through  its  precipitous  street 
toward  the  posada.  Ouevedo  alone,  the 
master  par  excellence  of  picaresque  descrip- 
tions, could  have  done  justice  to  the  types 
we  find  there.  The  fellow  who  stood  at  the 
door  with  a  bandage  around  his  head  which 
he  sprinkles  with  some  old  woman's  ointment 

kept    in    a   greasy    pig-skin    vessel,  the    infirm 

149 


rmmr^i'mrmm 


^~     '  "vbt       /ill    • 


^sj.^:^^'^^;: 


— -_-  •  3 


■'.\ 


\  •' 


c 


\ 


\i\ 


In    Toboso. 


t 


El  Toboso 


aj;io  and  a^/ia,  each  greater,  surely,  in  breadth 

than  in  heiorht  ;  the  collection  of  half-naked 
hangers  on  escaped  from  nowhere  but  the 
pages  of  "  Pablo  de  Segovia,  The  Great  Ruf- 
fian." The  dingy  interior — parlor,  dining, 
sleeping-room.       What    was    it  ?    or,    rather, 


,./' 


-vv 


6■^^•: 


Kf 


.ti 


«*^^.. 


-^mmm'-^' 


\- 


« 


^  > 


r- 


>^x'' 


»... 


s. 


„c^-- 


what  was  it  not  ?  with  its  indescribable  dingi- 
ness,  filth,  and  Hies,  is  a  place  not  to  be  de- 

151 


'  rilf- 


A    Glimpse    of  the  Big  Clunrh,   Tohoso. 


El  Tohoso 


scribed.  But  there  we  had  to  rest  under  the 
slanting,    low    roof   with   its    roughly  hewed 

beams,  cobwebbcd  all  over.  In  choosing  our 
place  we  pass  by  or  walk  over  muleteers, 
pedlers,  swine-herds,  stretched  on  the  bare 
tioor.     On  the  walls  harnesses  and  sombreros 

are  hanirinir  on  nails,  in  the  corners  are  sacks 
of  grain,  packages,  wine-skins  belonging  to 
the  sleepers,  and  guarded  by  little  curs  that 
snarl  silently  when  one  gets  too  near,  and 
would  bark  and  bite  at  the  slightest  attempt 
to  touch  their  masters'  property. 

In  the  weird  light — a  half-light — what  a 
fine  picture  this  interior  makes  !  Two  stables 
are  near  us  —  one  for  the  mules,  the  other 
for  the  pigs.  These  last  are  grunting,  the 
mules  kick,  and  lean  cats,  prowling  about  in 
their  search  for  food,  mew.     A  mule  chased 

from  the  stable  picks  her  way  quickly  among 
the  snoring  sleepers,  not  one  of  whom  moves, 
while  her  master,  trudging  behind  with  the 
harness,  urges  her  on  with  a  peculiar  noisy 

shout  ending  in  a  hiss.  No  interruptions 
wake  these  sleepers  whose  slumbers  are  deep 
when  chance  favors  them  in  the  twenty-four 
hours — four-fifths  of  which  are  spent  in  labor. 

Resting  until  the  last  minute,  they  are  up  and 

153 


\  i 


A 


■^^^i:^.  -,'~.f^",  -f^-'-'^^l^  -^" 


-^  ^t?*"- 


El  Toboso 


at  work  in  an  instant.  There  is  no  stretching: 
of  the  limbs,  no  washing  to  be  gone  through, 
no  clothes  to  put  on.  A  drink  of  water  and 
they  are  behind  their  mules  under  the  broil- 
ing sun,  the  crooked  stick  in  their  hands, 
wide  awake  and  singing. 

We  start  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  har- 
nessing the  mule  in  the  midst  of  a  drove  of 
pigs — a  hundred  or  more — the  village  pigs, 
which  are  being  gathered  together  to  go  to 
the  fields  under  the  guardianship  of  boys. 
After  following  a  beautiful  road  for  a  league 
or  more  and  passing  the  sanctuary  on  the 

hill  where  reposes  the  niiracuk^us  image  of 
the  patron  saint  of  the  Campo,  "  Our  Lady 
of  Crijitano,"  we  strike  across  wheat-fields 
and  in  a  couple  of  hours  reach  the  barren 
country,  sparsely  dotted  with  cltisters  of  trees, 
where  Don  Quixote  met  with  one  of  his 
most  pitiful  adventures,  the  first   sight  of  his 

lady  Dulcinca  chanired  by  nialctic  enchant- 

ment  into  a  coarse  peasant  wench. 

Quite  melancholy  are  the  approaches  of 
Toboso,    whose   few   houses,    built   largely  of 

sculptured  fragments  of  ancient  important 
structures,  plainly  tell  the  decadence  of  the 
renowned  and  prosperous  city  which  accord- 

154 


% 


k  'K 


1-^1 


-J.  '     '-A'    •■'     ' 


^U 


^i^ 


> 


Ciiardias    CiviUs  Alakin^   uji   Iti^'iStii^ation   at    Toboso. 


El  Toboso 


ing  to  an  official  report  had  nine  hundred 
houses  in  the  reign  of  Philip  II.  There  is 
nevertheless  a  winning  charm,  a  sort  of  dig- 
nity to  the  place  like  that  of  a  deserving  un- 
fortunate who  preserves  some  gentlemanly 
demeanor. 

Its  dilapidated  houses,  strewn  around  two 
stern,  forbidding-looking  churches,  appeared, 

in  spite  of  their  scars,  clean  and  well  kept. 
Its  ravine-like  lanes  were  free  from  the  nox- 
ious sights  which  had  grown  so  familiar  to 
me  as  inseparable  adjuncts   of  Manchegan 

streets.  In  Toboso  I  also  found  that  exotic 
wonder  an  exquisitely  clean  posada.  It 
was   late  when  we   saw  it,  and  I  hardly  dared 

trust  my  first  impression,  but  it  stood  the 
test  of  a  detailed  survey  in  the  full  light  of 
the  next  day.  Imagine  Dutch  cleanliness 
in   La    Mancha  ;    floors   of  court-yards   and 

rooms  shining,  barren   of  dust,  curtains  at 

the  little  windows,  mats  at  the  doors,  and 
in  appropriate  places  on  the  white  walls 
pathetic  attempts  at  decoration   in  the  shape 

of  religious  prints  set  in  colored  paper 
frames  ! 

Pieces    of    furniture,    chairs,    chests,    and 
tables,  curiously  carved,  and  the  array  of  brass 

156 


El  Toboso 


■^S^'--^^-*^ 


'  *l''r^.^- 


>-^  - 


■'If  Ff^" 


bowls,  spoons,  and  ladles  of  quaint  and  rough 
design  in  the  kitchen  were  beautifully  pol- 
ished. But  there  were  no  servants  in  this 
poor  inn.  The  family — father,  mother,  and 
two  daughters — kept  the  place  in  order. 
The  women  were  dignified  and  kindly,  and 
as  thev  went  about  their  work  in  the  house 
an  atmosphere  of  gentility  hovered  around 


157 


El  Toboso 


them.  Their  simple  manners,  devoid  neither 
of    repose    nor    of    grace,    were   pleasant    to 

watch.  And  then  looking;  clean  and  neat 
they  made  me  feel  less  far  from  home. 

The  father,  a  six-foot  man  of  about  fiftv, 
with  huge  frame,  big  shoulders,  clean  face, 
and  a  peculiarly  low  forehead,  spent  his 
time  alternately  in  giving  orders  and  praying. 
On  our  arrival  we  found  the  family  finishing 
supper,  and  before  our  inquiries  were  an- 
swered the  four  creatures  stood  with  heads 
bowled  low  down  on  the  table,  chanting  an 
interminable  litany,  and  kept  us  waiting  un- 
til the  long  ordeal  was  at  an  end.     As  soon 

as  we  could  make  our  wishes  known  the 
women,  excited  and  fluttered  at  the  advent 
of  guests,  disappeared  to  go  and  prepare  our 
supper,  when  the  father  straightway  started 

on  his  hobby — religion.  He  was  a  fanatic, 
with  the  fierce  intolerance  which  is  usually 
considered   by   foreigners  one  of  the   stroncr 

traits  of  the  Spaniards.  I  must  say  that,  un- 
til now,  I  had  seen  nothing  of  intolerance 
among  the  Manchegans  ;  but  this  man  more 
than  made  up  for  it.      Don  Quixote  discus- 

sing  chivalry  was  no  more  enthusiastic,  not 

a  whit  less  hare-brained  than   this  giant  inn- 

158 


El  Toboso 


keeper  when  inveighing  against  the  bad  ways 
of  the  present  generation,  against  its  indif- 
ference to  church  attendance,  its  non-observ- 
ance of  religious  practices — in  short,  its  lack 
of  wiiat  was  formerly  termed  the  religious 
spirit  in  Spain.  He  would  illustrate  his 
ideas  by  quotations  from  theological  books, 
cross  himself  when  pronouncing  the  name  of 
God  or  the  saints,  and  he  would  occasional- 
ly break  in  upon  his  reasonings  to  ask  us  our 


Mm 


^ri 


"iT.-r  ■^"  .    •» 


opinions    of    some    prayers    to    be   used    on 
special    occasions  of  temptation  and  illness 

which  he  had  selected  from    the  old  manuals 


159 


".'.Wpf%;^ 


5  "_:- 

V 


').':-m 


■A  --— «     , 


st-^^. 


jT^'^^ 


\-\< 


/a'   f^ic'  P(^^(!i/ti\'^   CourfvarJ,   Toboso, 


El  Toboso 


of  pietv.  This  wcmIcI  was  crolnrr  the  wav  of 
the  tempter,  was  the  burden  of  his  song, 
and  he  pointed  to  the  faet  that  in  the  hist 
eentury  ever}^  other  house  in  Toboso  was 
a  ehurch,  a  private  ehapel,  or  a  eonvent, 
while  the  Government  having  taken  away 
lands  and  fields  and  eonvents  from  monks 
and  sisters,  there  were  hardlv  any  monks  or 

sisters  left,  and  only  two  churches.  lie 
remembered  how  beautiful  were  the  holy 
services  he  used  to  attend  in  his  youth,  with 
the  magnificent  tapestries,  gold  and  silver 
vases,  and  rich  ornaments  which  made  the 
altars  like  visions  of  paradise.  "  .Vll  these 
riches  had  to  be  sold,  little  l)y  little,  and  thus 

the  ehurch  was  now  bereft  of  her  power  for 

Uooil. 

Kzeehiel's    opinion    of    our    host    was    ex- 
pressed liguratively  in  a  Sancho-like  fashion, 

made  more  contemptuous  by  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  :  "  Well,  senor,  he  talks,  like  a 
linnet,  out  of  a  mighty  small  head." 

A  sad  lot  was  that  of  the  women  of  the 

house  with  such  a  master.     He  meant  well, 

of  course,  but  his  was  an  iron  will,  and  everv- 
onc  must  agree  with  the  s])irit  of  his  doctrine 
as  well  as  with  his  minute  observances.    Thus 

i6i 


I'liiiii^iiiMi- 


El  Toboso 


Maria  and  J  nan  a,  the  daughter^,  in  passing 
before  eacii  sainil)'  image — each  ])ra\cr  cul 
from  the  pao^es  of  ancient  missals,  adornino: 
the  walls  all  over  the  house,  in  their  little 
frames  ingeniousl}'  fashioned  of  straw  and 
i^ilt  {)a})er — had  to  1)0W  and  stop,  audibh'  re- 
citing a  pious  ejaculation.  While  in  the 
midst  of  their  work,  the  hands  of  the  giant 
would  beckon,  and  business  had  to  be  in- 
stantly abandoned  for  the  recitation  of  some 
special  prayer  for  the  deliverance  of  slaves  or 
the  conversion  of  the  faithless.  Guests  were 
less  fortunate  than  the  cat  and  do^r,  the  onh* 
inmates  enjoying  full  liberty  in  the  house. 

There  was  no  escape  possible  from  the  tvran- 
nical  ways  of  this  sinirular  ann\  who,  caring- 
little  about  the  thino-s  of  this  world,  would 


let   his  guests   starve   or  go  awav  without 

paying  if  only  he  could  improve  the  op|)or- 
tunity  to  make  them  religious  after  his  own 
heart. 

That  was  the  reason  for  the  lack  of  patron- 
age of  this  otherwise  admirable  place.  When 
in  the  cveninof  seated  outdoors  and  hcarinof 
songs  of  merriment  in  the  neighborhood,  we 

wondered  what  was  o-oingr  on,  "It  is  from 
the   other   posada,"    said    the   anio.      "May 

162 


IK 


^liCf  e 


Maria. 


El  Tol)oso 


God  burn  it  to  the  ground,  for  devil-pos- 
sessed people  run  it  and  idolaters  alone  fre- 
quent it." 

Of  the  rough  and  brutal  character,  pro- 
verbial in  Ccrvantes's  time,  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Toboso,  Morisco  refugees  from  Granada, 
who  had   not   had  time  to  outlive  the  rude, 

fierce  traits  of  their  Arab  aneestors,  I  saw  no 
trace.  But  the  sole  industry  of  the  town  now 
as  then  is  the  manufacture  of  large  jars, 
ihiajas,    made    of    the    tufous   earth    which 

abounds  in  the  locality  and  the  Tobosan  tlna- 
jas  with  their  graceful  swelling  lines  and 
curves  are  still  renowned  in  the  Castilcs. 
The  principal  church  is  the  same  one  Cervan- 
tes described,  and  the  blind  alley  where  the 
roguish  squire  insisted  that  the  princely  castle 
of  the  fair  damsel  was,  still  exists.  I  could 
not  miss  the  opportunity  of   walking  wide 

awake  into  the  romancer's  dream,  "while  the 
village  was  wrapt  in  silence,  for  all  the  inhab- 
itants were  asleep — reposing  at  full  stretch — 
as  they  say,"  and  with  Don   Quixote  and 

Sancho  pass  in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  "  great 
pile "  and,  looking  at  the  belfry  tower,  re- 
mark with  Sancho  that  the  pile  was  a  church 

and  not  a  palace.    The  scene  was  just  like 

104 


El  Toboso 


that  of  the  book.      "  No  sound  was  heard 

but  the  barking  of  dogs  which  stunned  Don 
Quixote's  ears  and  troubled  Sancho's  heart. 
Now  and  then  a  jackass  brayed,  pigs  grunt- 
ed, and  cats  mewed,  whose  voices  of  various 
sound  were  heightened  in  the  silence  of  the 
niirht." 


16= 


El  Toboso 


We  start  at  midnight  on  our  return  jour- 
ney to  Argamasilla,   passing  the  Campo  de 


.'^ 


^S- 


Crijitano  before  daybreak  and  ^oing  down 
the  slopes  to  the  meadows  of  the   Guadi- 

ana,  and  cross  the  riv^er  on  a  bridge  whose 
length  show^s  w^hat  mighty  proportions  this 
puny  stream   is  wont   to  assume   during  the 

rainy  season.     Toward  noon  we  come  to  a 

qiiifiteria     (large    farm)     and    Ezcchiel    goes 

166 


u«^;"-"-  "^^'j^  r_  }- 


Jita/ia. 


El  Toboso 


in  to   ask   permission  to  enter,  a    privilege 

never  refused  but  which  must  be  asked  for 
and  orranted,  like  everythinor  else  in  this 
country,  with  the  elaborately  polite  formulas 
sanctioned  by  custom.     Our  cart  enters  the 

square  spacious  courtyard,  with  low  build- 
ings on  two  sides  and  walls  on  the  others. 
We  find  a  hearty  welcome   in  the   kitchen, 

where  eight  field-laborers,  with  the  inevitable 

loner  blades  in  their  hands,  are  sittin^r  on  low 
stools  energetically  discussing  the  contents 
of  a  big  soup-pot,  the  national  pitchcro.     The 

cook,  a  bashful  young  woman,  who  blushes 
prettilv  on  the  slightest  provocation,  makes 
a  good  contrast  to  these  dark-skinned,  mus- 
cular  men,   who,   teasing  one    another    in   a 

good-natured  way,  seem  to  have  the  best 

time  in  the  world.  At  the  entrance -door 
a  band  of  famished  cats  and  dogs,  too  well 
trained  to  dare  to  approach,  look  on  with 
fkaming  eyes,  uttering  half-suppressed  whines. 
Everyone  treats  us  with  extreme  courtesy 
and  kindness,  and  I  doubt  if  in  any  other 
country  the  stranger  could  find  such  manners 
and    such  tact   amonof  a  set    of  low  laborers 

like  this.  After  lunch  I  was  shown  into  a 
little    whitewashed    room,    dark    and    cool, 

I  OS 


i 


\ 


i 


I 


A 


X£k  ■:■■  -  K'^.    .  ■<'  /     \    '      - 


t-:.^i^^       ^ 


'"7 


"S  ^^ 


'   -  V 


§ 


I 

■v 
'  -v. 


""**'TW**t"'P""'"**' 


El  Toboso 


where  over  a  stone  beneh  a  eoueh  of  mats 
had  been  arranged,  and  I  was  left  alone  for 
a  mueh-needed  bit  of  siesta. 

As  it  was  harvest -time  the  place  was 
lively,  but  most  of  the  year  the  ursrro  (farm- 
er, or  rather  guardian  of  the  farm)  is  alone 
with  the  dogs  and  his  Winchester,  and   the 

large  gates  being  closed,  the  ^/////Aw;?  he- 
eomes  a  fortress.  The  arsero  then  does 
patrol-duty  to  prevent  damage  to  the  helds 
and  possible  raids  against  the  stores  of  grain. 
provisions,  and  wine.  In  lonely  places  such 
as  these,  cascros  have  an  exciting  life,  and 
few  of  them  are  there  wlio  reach  an  old  age. 
This  one  thinks  the  game  worth  the  candle. 

''  It    is  a    tine  life,  sir,"  he    tells    me.   wiiih-   ca- 
ressing   his   Winchester;    "plenty   to   eat  and 

drink,  some  money  besides,  and  then  a 
ehancc  to  use  one's  Sfun." 

Atter  the  siesta  we  resume  our  journey 
over  the  familiar  plain,  where,  far  away  be- 
fore us,  our  goal   appears  as  a  faint   mirage. 

Arganiasillu  impresses  one  diffcrciith'  as  one 

approaches  it  from  some  new  direction. 
Xo\r  it  looks  like  an  Oriental  city,  w  iili  us 
brilliant     white    walls    set    at    the    enrl    of   an 

ahnneda,  a  kjug  oasis  of  grand  ])oplars  with 

170 


' 


^•4 


m 


>    U3'i        111 


<  1     * 


Cj 


■Si 


Hi    lubu^u 


an  undcr^ruwth  uf  fio"  and  Icinuii  trees.     The 

whole  picture  has  llie  color  of  the  Orient, 
the  same  sky,  the  same  warm  pur})le  liaze 
over  the  horizon,  and  the  plain  is  as  Hat  and 
tawny  as  the  desert ;  tlie  j)o|)lars  alone  tue 

out  of  place,  and  pahii-trees  arc  lacking"  to 
make  the  likeness  complete. 


VI 


The  Morena 


172 


The  Morena 


??*-'^5=5-i=. 


^.mfe 


m 


— — — .  -f'.rt'^A'i*^^^' 


T 


-'Si--  r?' 

•        "^  ■*  ■*  •  ■ 


\ 


y:^R 


1'>^ 


H  E  trip  to  the  Sierra 
Morena  was  my  sole 

infidelity  to  Ezechiel. 
On  the  eve  of  departure 
from  Artjamasilla  we  had 
an  interview  that  is  likelv 

to  remain  one  of  my  rarest 
recolleetions.  It  was  mv 
last  dinner  at  the  Posada 
del  Carmen,  where,  as  the 

honored    guest,     Ezechiel 
behaved  with   his   usual  diixnitv  and  taet,  his 
gentle  voiee  adding  charm  to  his  words. 
The  meal  over,  we  walked  across  the  wav 

to  the  one  shoj)  of  tlic  ]>lace,  whose  meagre 
stock  of  cotton  goods  was  displayed  in  a 
low  room  no  larger  than  six  In*  ten  feel,  ihiit, 

ill  oi-dcr  to  settle  iiiv  accounts  with  liiui,  1 
might  get  change  for  a  Spanish  hank-note. 
I  counted  the  numl)er  of  ^(vrj'os,  each  one  of 
whicli  was  the  equivalent  of  a  dav  of  his  ser- 

viccs  and  those  of  his  conveyance,  and  gave 

175 


llic   Morena 


them  to  him  with   the  adcHtion  of  an   extra 

compensation. 

The  good  man  counted  the  pieces  carefully 
again  and  again,  looked  puzzled,  anel  hnally 
called  mv  attention  to  the  mistake  made  in 
giving  him  more  than  his  due.  Whereupon 
explaining  that  it  was  intentional  and  that  I 
wished  I  could  make  it  more,  1  asked  him 
to  accept  the  little  gift  as  a  small  acknowl- 

edg-ment  of  his  loyal  services.  He  con- 
tinued to  look  embarrassed,  but  fmally 
thanked  me  for  my  kindness  and  went  awav. 
An  hour  after,  he  returned  with  the  extra 
compensation.  "No,  Senor,"  he  said,  ''I 
can't  take  this.  We  made  our  price.  It 
was  more  than  I  usually  get,  and  as  this  job 
was  an  easv  one,  I  am  the  gainer.     We  stand 

quits,  and  I  could  not  think  well  of  m\'self 
nor  would  you  think  as  kindly  of  me  if  I 
were  to  take  vour  ^xii^ 

"  But,  man,  I  consider  vou  have  earned  it 

by  the  money  you  saved  me  in  your  pur- 
chases at  the  posadas." 

"That  was  the  bargain,  Senor.      Xo.  }-ou 

must  take  this  back.     Let  me  shake  hands 

with  vou  as  with  a  friend,  and  God  be  with 
vou  and  vours." 

176 


\ 


The  Morena 


*2*rS;.— r'^^s^j,-^;^,"  :, 


■-.e-' 


^:^^'^^     .'■r^'-^       .... 


I  deplored  the  necessity  which  deprived 
me  of  his  faithful  attendance,  but  his  little 
mule  could  not  have  made  the  long,  arduous 
journey  to  and  from  the  Morena  without 
taking  much  more  time  than  I  had  at  my 
dis|)osal.  There  are  such  incidents  in  one's 
liap])iest  experiences,  and  this  loss  of  lize- 

chiel's  companionship  I  could  not  help  feel- 
ing keenly  as  the  premonition  of  the  hum- 
drum davs  of  civilized  routine  that  were  to 
follow  my  last  excursion  into  La  Mancha. 

It  was  unreasonable,  of  course,  for  journevs 
like  these  derive  their  interest  from  the  con- 
trast they  make  to  one's  ordinary  manner  of 

life. 

I    had    no   other  course    l)ut   to   go   by  rail 
into   the    very    heart    of    the    mountains,    and 


J  / 


]t. 


A  f  orena 


therein-  make  what  I  thouoiu  would  |)rn\c 
a  prosaic  and  liardh'  })k-asaiii  I'c^'iniiing. 
But  the  train  crept  ahjng  so  sluwh'  and  made 
so  long  a  stop  at  every  little  settlement  that 
the  novel  experience  of  l)eini^  al)le  to  exam- 
ine at  leisure  all  details  of  the  landsca])e 
proved  rather  enjoyable.  "Fwas  not  in  the 
least  like  the  car-travelling  we  are  accustomed 
to,  but  rather  like  the  progress  of  a  mule  or 
a  horse  going  at  a  brisk  pace. 

At  first  the  flat  eountry  had  the  familiar 

parched  and  dreary  look,  then,  as  we  went 
along,  the  vineyards  invaded  it  and  soon  hlled 
the  plain  in  an  unbroken  mass  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach. 

We  passed  through  the  most  famous  wine- 
producing  district  in  Spain.  The  prosperous 
town    which    gives    it  its  name   Valdcpenas 

(Valley  of  Stones)  had,  in  spite  of  its  com- 
mercial importance,  the  same  tiled -roof 
houses  scattered  around  a  big  church,  which 
are  so  characteristic  of  Manchegan   villages. 

It  had  an  unexpected  contrast  in  the  shai)e 

of  some  spick  and  span  modern  -  looking 
bodegas  (distiUcrics  and  wine  emporiums) 
with    their    names    printed    in    black     letters 

three  feet  high  on  their  dazzlino-  white  walls. 

173 


Th(^  Morena 


I  sufTcrrd  from  the  incongruity  of  seeing 
this  blatant  signature  of  our  civilization  in  bo 
primitive   a   place,  and    found   it   particulai'lv 

disagreeable  to  be  so  bluntly  reminded  of 
home. 

Everywhere  from    the  Manehegan  plains 
the  serrated  outline  on  the  southern  horizon 

serves  as  a  weather  bureau.  It  is  the  Mo- 
rena. We  had  been  approaching  it  graduall}', 
though  it  seemed  always  out  of  reach.  After 
leaving  the  Valdcpenas  region  the  character 
of  the  country  changed,  becoming  more  and 
more  denuded  and  rocky,  and  the  denticu- 
lated Sierra  Morena  1  had  become  familiar 
with  was  lost  to  sight. 


^^^C^THi;-^ 


-«" 


\ 


179 


^^•7^'-^ 


The  Morena 


Having  left  behind  the  yellow  and  purple 
immensity  of  the  plain,  fading  away  like  a 

hazy  sea,  we  found  ourselves,  on  aseending 
the  tirst  high  spur,  eneireled  by  mountains. 
Our  path  became  steeper,  roeky  slopes  being 

piled  one  upon  another  until,  after  a  succes- 
sion of  curves  and  steep  grades,  the  train 
stopped  and  panted  for  breath  at  the  station 
of  Almuradiel. 

Alighting  with  my  scant  luggage  tied  to  a 
crooked  staff,  I  happened  by  lucky  accident 
on  old  Jose  and  his  antediluvian  mule  and 
cart,  rigged  together  with  broken  harness  and 

pieces  of  rope,  rotten  from  long  service. 

Without  waste  of  words  a  l)ar2:ain  was  made 
and  off  we  went  toward  the  villaore  of  Viso 
del  Marques,  the  most  convenient  head- 
quarters for  an  exploration  of  the  mountain- 
ous recesses,  where  some  of  the  strangest 
and  most  wonderful  adventures  befell  our 
friends  of  the  Book. 

What  a  delight  it  was  to  be  on  such  an 
errand  bent  in  these  weird  and  bleak  sur- 
roundings of  romance,  with  the  sun  shining 
fiercely  and  a  cold  wind  blowing:  half  a  2:ale, 
while  fingering,  so  to  speak,  the  interestincr 
book  of  Jose's  wisdom  by  means  of  leading 

1 80 


The    Morena 


<lucstions  concerning  himself,  the  people,  the 
country,  snatching  thus  inevitable  bits  of 
familiar  history  clothed  in  queer  garb,  yet 
nevertheless  recognizable.  Wizen-faced  Jose, 
who  iiad  seen  eighty  winters  and  improved 
his  0])portunities,  could  put  a  lot  of  sense 
and  shrewd  knowledge  into  his  entertaining 
talk. 

We  ])roceeded  at  a  snail's  pace  on  a  terri- 
ble road,  that  hardly  scratched  the  rocky  soil 
of  a  bleak  plateau.  A  fin-like  barrier  of  sharp, 
serrated  mountains  rose  before  us,  and  on  our 
side  toward  the  south.     Between  and  above 

these  nearer  peaks  others  appeared,  and  in 
the  distance  two  higher  summits,  rather  faint, 
raised  their  lordly  heads.  In  this  savagely 
lonely  and   imposing  ensemble  there  were 

here  and  there,  in  the  ridges  of  the  plateau, 
some  fields  of  vines  and  wheat  accentuat- 
ing   its    barrenness.      And    a    few    vigorous 

plants,   dwarfed    by  the  constant  struMe 

against  the  elements  and  holding  to  the  live 
rock  with  hardy  roots  resembling  claws, 
managed  to  brace  themselves  in  the  crevices 

and  stubbornly  resist  the  north  wind's  riotous 

blasts. 

Against  the  same  enemy  Viso  del  Marques 

181 


mjnm 


The  Morcna 


huddled  its  solid,  low  houses  in  a  eompact 
mass,  appearing  at  a  distance  so  indistin- 
guishable from  its  surroundings  that  only 
on    getting:   nearer   to    its   standard-bearer, 

the  belfry  tower,  square  and  squatty,  bulging 
out  from  amid  the  little,  irregular  cubes  of 
masonry,  did    I   recognize   them,  not  as  the 

natural  aceidents  of  the  landseape,  but  as  the 

abodes  of  a  human  community.  I  fancy  this 
same  mediaeval  tovv^er  must  have  heralded  El 
Viso  to    Don  Quixote  and    Sancho    in    their 

tli[rht  toward  the  mountain  fastnesses  after 

their  deliverance  of,  and  scuffle  with,  the  gang 
of  orallev  -  slaves,  or  in  the  words  of  Cid 
Hamet    Benengali's    translator,  "  the  several 

unfortunates  who,  much  against  their  will, 
were  beincr  carried  to  where  thev  had  no  wish 
to  go." 

Shouts,    beating  of  drums,  and   confusing 

sounds,  striking  our  ears  in  the  lulls  between 

the  gusts  of  wind,  proclaimed  the  fact  that 
something  unusual  was  going  on  in  the  vil- 
lage. By  good  fortune  it  chanced  to  be 
the  yearly  local  fiesta,  and  in  the  main  street, 
teeming  w^th  people,  we  found  it  not  easy  to 
proceed.  Our  aged  steed  started  kicking 
before  a   brawny   Asturian    pedler  of   brass 

1S2 


The   Morena 


Oc'-'^-^-'-^N,  ^ 


-y-;-""  -^•. 


':Q^^(- 


\-^. 


~^^-^^'- 


lllEIt^. 


brazcros,  who  beat  his  wares  with  a  stick  the 

better  to  advertise  them. 

Booths  and  tables  were  surrounded  by 
peasant-folk,  whose  serious,  honest  counte- 
nances appeared  hypnotized  by  the  livelv  talk 

of  drummers  and  fakirs.  The  male  inhabi- 
tants were  sitting  before  their  doorsteps  en- 
joying the  animated  spectacle,  while  the 
windows  blossomed  with  the  swarthy  faces 
of  excited  women.  Children  and  dogs  ran 
crazily  every  way,  donkeys  brayed,  and  in 
corners    against    the    walls     patient     mules 

183 


h 


/i 


The  Morcna 


looked  on  through  half-closed  eyes,  shrewd 
and  critical. 

At  the  Casa  Teresa  the  sixty  years'  old 
Sefiora  Teresa  had  a  fetching  air  of  gentilit}', 
which,  however,  did  not  disguise  her  keen 
sense  of  business.  She  satisfied  herself  in  a 
few  minutes  of  the  desirability  of  permitting 
me  to  be  her  guest.  She  put  it  in  a  nice 
way,  excluding  the  vulgarity  of  the  word 
boarder,  though  there  was  no    doubt  from 

the  enormity  of  her  demand,  a  })eseta  (about 
eighteen  cents)  a  day  for  the  best  room,  that 
'*^ guest"  was   her    sugar-coating  to   a   sharp 

pill.     As  they  say  in  Spain:  Podcroso  cabal- 

lero  Bs  Don  Dincro.  Dios  cs  oiunipotcutc 
Y  cl  dincro  cs  sn  tcnicntc.  "  ^V  powerful 
gentleman  is  Lord  Money.  God  is  all  pow- 
erful and  Money  is  his  lieutenant." 

El  \"iso  being  dropped  on  the  edge  of  the 
civilized  world,  with  the  Sierra  and  wilder- 
ness on  the  other  side,  and  removed  therefore 

from  the  track  of  travel,  there  are  no  accom- 
modations for  the  rare  travellers — no  fondas 
nor  posadas — and  this  house  was  the  only 
one  where  the  infrequent  provincial  or  gov- 
ernment employee  coming  for  some  specifie 
work — usually  a  tour  of   inspection — could 

1S4 


1 


1 


f 


:57a 


f:^'?^ 


:.-f-— 


^1    1    f    ■—-—■'•— -•- 


:: ... :.?:v\^(^ -  ... 


mm- 


X 


\/l^rf(j:e 


^1 


ff 


K 


\ 


The  Morena 


■<^'^ 


find  shelter.     It  gratified  the  little  busybody 

to  be  brought  Into  relations  with  such  im- 
portant personages,  and  while  I  did  not  have 
the  glamour  of  an  official  position  about  me, 
yet  she  was  full  of  cordiality  toward  the  rich 
one  who  could  so  readily  throw  away  eigh- 
teen cents  for  mere  shelter,  when  he  mic^ht 
just  as  well  have  slept  under  the  porch  of 
some  house  or  on  a  street  corner  and  saved 

the  precious  money. 

She  proved   to   be  a  capital   cook,  and  her 
house  was  kept  so  scrupulously  neat  that  I 

considered  it  a  privilege  indeed  to  live  in  it. 

And  the  way  she  ordered 
affairs,  with  the  help  of  a 
little   servant -girl,   some 

twelve  years  old,  whom 

she  loved  and  who  loved 
her,  and  managed  her 
rather  decorative  hus- 
band—  a  caballero  who 
did  not  stoop  to  work, 
but  who  was  cuddled 
and  made  much  of — was 

something  delightful.  There  was  as  much 
shrewd  humor,  kindliness,  and  naivete  in 
the    scenes    these    three    people    played    be- 


.^\ 


•'  ^ 


ik 


""^^^i 


'%, 


i86 


il 


The  Morena 


fore  me  as  in  the  most  entertaining  chap- 
ter of  Ouixote — enouo^h  to  make  the  most 
melancholy  bosom  kindle  with  human  sym- 
pathy. The  small  house  was  unique  of  its 
kind ;  Dona  Teresa's  strong  personality  was 

im}3ressed  upon  everything  in  it,  and  in  such 
a  pronounced  manner  that  to  live  in,  or  enter, 
it  sfave  as  novel  a  sensation  as  a  first  visit  to 
a  Japanese  house  might  give. 

As  its  inmates  were  kept  indoors  by  sun  in 
summer  and  snow  in  winter,  the  interior  was 
made  as  attractive   as   possible,   a  home-like 

little  world.     There  were  cats,   birds,  and 

potted  plants  also — who  ever  would  dream 
of  finding  potted  plants  in  a  Manchegan 
house  !  —  more    wonderful     still,    as    in    the 

suburban  home  of  the  Parisian /r///  rentier, 

there  were  vines,  carefully  trained  and 
watched,  and  a  pet  pear-tree  in  the  little 
courtvard  betw^ecn  the  divisions  of  the  house, 

front  and  back. 

In  the  front  room  were  queerly  shaped 
pieces  of  old  furniture,  connected  by  strips 
of  matting  over  the  spotless  floor  of  hard- 
ened earth,  and  I  soon  learned  that  one  must 
always  walk  in  the  middle  of  the  strips, 
otherwise  the  house-keeper's  distress  was  as 

187 


The  Morcna 


painful  to  see  as  her  efforts  to  conceal  it. 
There  were   many  odds  and   ends  of  quaint 

and  curious  brass  things  and  bric-a-l)rao, 
which  were  to  be  looked  at  and  talked  about 
but  not  touehed,  and  chairs  not  to  be  used 


under  any  circumstances.  In  faet  the  favor- 
ite seats  were  a  stone  in  the  courtyard  and  the 

door-sill.  In  my  room  the  beautiful  old  chest 
of  drawers  was  inspeeted  every  time  I  went 
out,  to  see  that  it  had  not  suffered  injuries 
at  my  inexperienced  hands,  and  my  bed  was 

polished  till  it  shone  like  some  rare  old  bronze. 


iSS 


The  Morena 


I  could  not  understand  how  the  old  lady 
found  time  to  keep  everything  in  sueh  perfeet 

condition  ;  to  bargain  at  length  and  shrewdly 
over  every  cent  she  spent  on  the  marketing, 
(by  the  way,  the  peasant  tradesmen  never 
were  allowed  to  enter  the  sacred  precincts  of 

the  house,  all  trading  being  done  from  the 

doorsteps)  ;  to  cook  dainty  and  complicated 
dishes  ;  to  pay  constant  attention  to  her 
husband  and  her  little  servant,  caressingly 
tending  the  one  and  playing  merrily  with  the 
other  ;  and  to  be  always  ready  for  a  chat 
with  guest  or  neighbor.  But  she  did  it,  and 
managed  it  all  cheerily,  graciously,  with  an 

omnipresent  watchfulness  for  opportunities, 
an  ^.n^T-alert  eye  to  business. 

We  spent  the  two  days  of  the  fiesta — 
Teresa's  husband  and  1  —  roaming  about 
the  streets,  smokini^:  cirarettes,  meetino;  in 
turn  most  of  the  villagers  and  indulging  in 
short  conversations,  the  burden  of  which 
was,  on  the  part  of  my  new  acquaintances, 

the  beauty  of  the  fiesta — the  like  of  which 
had  not  been  seen  for  many  years.  They 
were  good  representatives  of  mountaineers, 
people    of    few    words,    sound    on    things 

essential,   and    loving  the   comparative   free- 

189 


The    Morena 


dom  of  their  seclusion  from  the  rest  of  the 
world. 

While    enjoying    the    fiesta    they    looked 

with   disfavor  upon  the  foreign  element,  as 

they  called  it,  of   travelling  merchants,  who 

had  invaded  their  village  to  sell  the  few  sim- 
ple things  they  needed — harnesses,  potter- 
ies, kitchen  utensils,  cotton  and  woollen 
cloths,  kerchiefs,  and  trinkets.  There  was 
no  sympathy,  no  assimilation  between  them. 
It  was  like  the  attitude  of  society  toward 
actors,  here  quite  justified,  for  the  strangers, 

riffraff    of    all    provinces    of    Spain,    were    a 
tough    set,    crafty,    trying  to   cheat   wherever 

they  could,  but  knowing  also  how  to  curb 
their  impudence  at  any  intimation  that  the 

temper  of  the  buyer  was  aroused. 

The  bull-fight  had  been  the  attraction  of 
the  day  before  my  arrival,  not  such  a  bull- 
fight as  one  sees  in  cities,  but  a  purely  local 

affair  gotten  up  only  when  the  flesh  of  the 
poor  brute — the  most  ferocious  animal  of  the 
village    herds  —  is    sold    beforehand.      Even 

the  poorest  have  something  to  spend  in  view 
of  such  an  event,  in  which  everyone  takes 
part,  the  bull-ring  being  the  great  courtyard 
of  a  neighboring  mediaeval  castle.     As  a  re- 

IQO 


The  Morena 


suit  of  this  democratic  slaughter,  the  man 
who  succeeds  in  dealing  the  death-blow  is 
looked  upon  as  the  village  hero  and  fol- 
lowed the   ensuing   year   by   admiring  eyes 

wherever  he  sroes.  I  had  the  honor  of 
meeting  the  butcher -boy  who  had  just 
achieved    this    distinction,    and    found     him 

fully  aware  of  his  importance. 

Fortunately    the    temporary    theatre,    set 


I 


^i-^''-^' 


l^-t^."— .,  ■  - 


<■--.,     \ 


A 


>^v 


lit-P 


^- 


W-- 


^^ 


^i-- 


.\N 


upon  the  public  square,  remained.  Perform- 
ances were  given  whenever  an  audience  col- 
lected, attracted  by  the  inducements  vocifer- 
ously shouted  in  a  hoarse,  husky  voice  by 


IQI 


The  Morena 


M 
■1 


i' 


■v. 


"V 


<3 


^ 


the  fellow  who  assumed  the  manifold  duties 
of  manager,  aetor,  and,  if  not  playwriirht,  at 

least,  adapter  of  play^.  After  the  traditional 
eustom,  eaeh  pieee  opened  with  a  prologue 
and  ended  with  a  string  of  jests  and  apologies 
to  the  audienee  ;  eaeh  personage  coming  or 
o-oinir  without  the  slis^htest  regard  to  the  un- 
folding  of  the  story,  its  possibilities,  or  lim- 
itations of  time. 

Theatre  and   performances  can,  in  fact,  be 

well  described  in  the  words  of  Cervantes, 
speaking  of  the  dramatist  Lope  de  Ivueda  : 

''  Tn  the  time  of  this  celebrated  Spaniard," 
savs  Cervantes,  '^  the  whole  ai)paratus  of  a 
numager  was  contniiu'd  in  a  large  sack,  iind 
consisted  of  four  white  shepherd's  jackets, 
turned  up  witli  k'athcr,  gilt  and  stamped  ; 
four  beards  and  false  sets  of  hanging  locks, 

and  four  shepherd's  crooks,  more  or  less. 
'Hie  i)la\s  were  colkxiuies,  like  eclugues,  be- 
tween two  or  three  she|)herds  and  a  shep- 
iicrdess,  httcd    up  and  extended    witii    two 

or  three  interlude^,  whose  personages  were 
sometimes  a  ncirress,  sometimes  a  l)ully, 
sometimes  a  fool,  and  sometimes  a  Biscayan  ; 

for  all   these  foiu-  parts,  and  manv  others, 

Lope    himself    performed    with    the    greatest 

T93 


_'% 


1  lie   Mui tua 


excellence  and  skill  that  ean  be  iniagmcJ. 
.  .  .  The  tlieatre  was  composed  of  ft  air 
l)eiiehes,  arranged  in  a  s(]uarc,  will]  live  or 
six  boards  laid  across  thcrn,  that  were  thus 
raised  about  four  palms  {roin  the  irroimd 
The  furniture   ui  lliu   theatre  \va^  an 

old  l)lanket,  drawn  aside  l)\'  two  eoitjs,  mak- 

in^  what  they  eall  the  t  irino-ruoin,  Lnlnnd 
whieli  were  the  musicians,  who  sano-  old  hal- 
lads  without  a  ^iruitar." 

Pcfformances,  then  as  now,  occurred  when- 
ever an  atuiience  could  he  gathered,  appar- 
ently both  forenoon,  afternoon,  and  ex  cu- 
ing, for  at  the  end  of  one  of   his  [)la\s  Lope 

invites  Ins  '' hearers  onlv  to  cat  their  dinners 

and  return  to  the  square  and  witness  an- 
other." The  most  useful  personage  a|)peared 
to  me  to  be  the  fool,  who  happened  in  at 
unexpected  moments,  usually  when  the  at- 
tention of  the  audience  waned,  and  was 
kicked  and  abused  with  bad  words  and 
blows  for  his  stupid  simplicity.  The  specta- 
tors were  silent,  lauorhingr  rarely,  and  looking 
upon  the  antics  of  the  buffoon  with  extreme 
seriousness. 

El  Vise  has  a  post  of  the  Guardia  Civile. 
The  district  being  in  large  part  impractica- 

194 


The  Morena 


bie  for  horses,  these  men  radiating  from  head- 
quarters here    haxf    to  cover   on    foot  some 

fiftccdi  miles  as  tlie  crow  Hies,  in  every  di- 
rection. This  profession  is  not  a  sinecure 
m  the  Morena.  Guardias,  alternatmg  night 
with   (Idv   work,   are   on    patrol   duty  sixteen 

oiii  of  the  iweniy-lour  hours,  the  remaining 

l)eing  de\()tcd  to  their  families  (all  being 
married  as  a  rule)  and  to  needful  rest. 
Thev  art'  under  ati  effective  svstem  which 
controls  their  movements  even  in  remote 
and  deserted  places,  and  going  always  in 
pairs,  are  never  sent  twice  in  succession  on 
the  same    route.      All   they  receive  for  their 


V.c^^ 


^■-•^ 


^■^^ 


»' 


>1 


services  is  less  than  thirty  cents  of  our 
money  per  day,  out  of  which  they  pay  for 
their  clothes,  food,  lodging,  etc. 

I  had  presented  my  request  for  the  neces- 

195 


The   Morcna 


The  Morcna 


sary  escort,  without  which  it  would  not 
have  been  safe  to  make  the  excursion  I  had 
planned,  and  the  morning  after  the  festivities 
started  at  a  brisk  pace  between  two  young 

Guardlas,  with  Winchesters  on  their  shoul- 
ders, who  walked  with  the  short  Spanish  mili- 
tary Step,  pretty  but  ineffective  and  grotescjue 
compared  with  the  long,  swinging  motion, 
bending  low  the  knees,  of  the   Swiss  moun- 


''  , 


V^\. 


It 


•<^. 


talneers.  The  Guardias'  tight  uniforms  of 
heavy,  dark  cloth  (alike  in  summer  and 
winter)  made  them  look  clumsy  and  stiff 
as   dressed -up   doll    soldiers,    their   heavily 

iq6 


?:^;^n-': 


\li.V, 


.Jt'^^/^'ii^^y^ 


^ 


— -r"     i, 


>A. — =- . 


> 


fringed    black    eyes   and    long    twisted    mus- 
tachios    adding  an   element   of  make-believe 

fierceness  such  as  one  expects  nowhere  but 
in  stageland. 

We  went  up  a  slope,  which,  ending  abruptly 
a  short  distance  above,  seemed  to  be  sur- 
mounted by  a  sober  mass  of  deep  purple, 
the  chain  of  summits  forming  the  dorsal  fin 

of  the  Sierras. 

After  that  first  impression  we  found  our- 
selves going  down  and  across  desert  ridges 
and  spurs  whose  monotonous,  tawny  hide 
made  the  most  effective  of  foregrounds  to 
the  great  serrated  mountains  unveiled  now 

197 


11 


I      -r 


1  he  Morcna 


from  base  to  summit,  their  shapes  and  scars 
blended    into   an    harmonious  medley  of  lu- 

minous  colors— stepping-stones  to  the  inex- 
pressible radiance  of  the  unbroken,  deep 
azure  above. 

Our     path     went    meandering    downward 

over  the  sharp,  live  rock  which  cut  into  one's 
sliocs,  and  as  we  advanced  the  rugged  deso- 
lation of  our  surroundings  made  the  airy  and 
transparent  curtain  of  the  Sierras,  growing  in 

height  before  us,  seem  a  mirage.  It  was  the 
right  time  to  call  to  mind  the  passage  where 
Cervantes  describes  the  kni<^ht's  feelini^s  in 
such  a  place  as  this  : 

*^And  as  they  entred  in  farther  among 
those  mountaines,  we  cannot  recount  the  jov 
of  our  Knight,  to  whom  those  places  seemed 
most  accommodate  to  atchieve  the  advent- 
ures he  searched  for.  They  reduced  to  his 
memory  the  marvellous  accidents  that  had 
bcfalne  Knights  Errant  in  like  solitudes 
and  desarts  :  and  he  rode  so  overwhelmed 
and  transported  by  these  thoughts,  as  he 
rememl)red  nothing  else.  Nor  Sancho  had 
any  other  care  (after  he  was  out  of  feare  to 
be  taken)  but  how  to  fill  his  belly  with  some 

of    these  rclikes   which    yet  remained    of    the 

199 


^1 


The  Morcna 


Clerical!  spoyles ;  and  so  hee  followed   his 

lord,  taking-  now  and   then   out   of  a   basket 

(which  Rozinante  carried  for  want  of  the 
Asse)  some  meat,  linincr  therewithal!  Iiis 
paunch ;  and  whilst  he  went  thus  imployed, 

he  would  not  have  given  a  mite  to  encoun- 
ter any  other  adventure  how  honouraI)le  so- 
ever."    (Part    I,   Chapter  XXIIL,   Thomas 

SlIKI/rox's    TRAXSLATIOX.) 

Lil>:e    Sancho,  our  companions  and  guests 
Dona    Teresa,    her    husband,    and    her    little 
maid -servant,    who    were    following   us    in 
Jose's  cart,  whiled  the  time  awav  Ijy  eatincr 

greased  /H7?lnc/os''  and  drinldng' the  powei- 
fu!  \^aldepenas— a  combination  which  made 
them  superl)!y  oblivious  to  jolting  and  heat. 

And  ever  and  anon,  the  ii'repressil)le  flow  of 

their  high  spirits  !)urst  forth  into  CXtemi)0- 
raneousand  hurriedly  recited  litanies,  ending 
in   long,   piercing  notes,  and  celel)rating  the 

giver  of  the  feast,  the  l)eauty  of  the  dav,  and 

the  joy  of  their  hearts. 

One  loses  all  sense  of  direction  in  these 
chaotic  wastes,    peopled    only    by  flocks   of 

*  A  fried  pasty  without  any  filling,  which  is  the  dainty  break- 
tast  dish  in  well-to-do  families  of  Southern  Spain  and  among  the 
Moors  of  Northern  Africa. 


200 


The  Morena 


'1 -.■:•■  '*^' 


-.^^vn^s^ 


-X  *,  >,   ■ 


"^%>^  .e^  W  ■  *V 


«-•«. 

r  ■!*.■-. 


V.-.    \^ 


*^. 


V-^\ 


hills  pressing  around  and  filling  the  horizon 
on  three  sides  with  strange  and  varied  forms. 

The  heat  is  stifling  in  these  closed  gulleys, 
and  it  was  only  when  our  descent  suddenly 
ceased  and  we  becran  to  ascend  that  one 
could  breathe  comfortably.  Leafage  ap- 
peared over  the  last  hill  and  we  soon  reached 
our  goal,  a  garden  of  luxuriant  vegetation, 
topped  with  cork,  chestnut,  and  oak  trees, 
brought  to  life  by  a  boisterous  little  stream 

of  exquisitely  pure  water. 

We     paid    our    respects    to    two    elderly 
gentlewomen,  sisters  of  a  dead   canon,  and 


201 


^mm**m 


The   Morcna 


drank  slowly  at  the  spring  situated  before 
the  door  of  their  stone  eottage,  their  hired 
men  eoming  and  remaining  to  silently  craze 
upon  US  till  we  resumed  our  mareh. 

Following  the  stream  through  the  gar- 
dens, erossing  and  recrossing  it,  jump'^ng 
over  mud  walls,  stooping  low  under  pear-  and 
apple-trees,  we  came  at  last  upon  a  family 
of  children  taking  a  bath  under  the  watch- 
ful eyes  of  the  mother.  A  little  naked  bov, 
frightened  at  our  appearance,  burst  out  cry- 
ing and  ealHncr  "Mamma,"  while  his  little 
gni  com])anions  laughed  at  him  and  at  us. 

The  contents  of  the  cart  were  unloaded  in 
a  seciudccl   spot    on  the   edge  of  the  oasis. 

The  members  of  our  i)arty  set  ahout  busily 
gettin.o-  wood  and  water,  and  ])uttino-  wine 
and  vegetables  to  cool  in  a  deep  pool.  When 
the  lire  was  lit,  if  someone  wandered  awav, 

It  was  onlv  for  a  moment,  soon  returning;  to 
resume  his  patient  watch  before  the  fryTncr. 
pan,  over  which  Dona  Teresa  presided.'  iC 

thetic  spectacle-this  faseination  food  exerts 

over  these  people,  for  it  means  simply  that 
they  have  not  often  a  chance  to  do  full  jus- 
tice to  their    appetites.      They  are    like  the 

Arabs,  who,  living  on  the  most  frugal  and 


^55v  }^ 


Ofi  the  Road  to  Los  Molinos. 


ul 


10'. 


.«J6**  "|jg«jiffi*i|.Wife^3^_, 


The    iVIorena 


scantv    diet,     whenever    opportunity    offers, 

have  their  rcvcnjrc  and  gorcre  themselves  to 

the  verge  of  stU{)or. 

We  had   a  jolly  time  discussinor  the  elabo- 
rate repast,  Teresa's  tlow  of  unexpected  sallies 

imkmr  the  eyes  of  the  Guardias  bulcre  out 

comically,  and  interfering  with  the  attention 
they  gave  to  the  business  of  filling  up. 

''Take  care,  honey,  wine  makes  the  whisk- 
ers grow  and  the  beaux  fly,"  she  remarked  to 
the  girl-servant  about  to  take  wine,  and  who 


4,    J.     .w^ 


'.:?■• 


protested  that  she  was  not  eovetous,  and  did 

not  care  a  wild  fig  for  any  beaux.      Teresa 
quoted:   ''  He  that  lies  most  will  sin  most" 

204 


The   Morena 


{Qjiicn    mas    iJiicjife.    mcdva    mas),    an    old 

proverb  which  was  chosen  by  Qucvcdo  as  the 

title  of  one  of  his  plays;  and  winked  at  her 
husband,  "  in  faith  she'll  have  dozens  of  them. 
I  keep   my  eye  on   her,  but  what's  the  good, 

^  my  mother  beats  me  and  I  whip  the  toys 
{Castigamc  mi  madrc y  yo  tj-ompooclas),  one 
of  Ouevedo's  proverbs  which,  applied  here, 
means  I  chastise  her  but  she  continues  to 
play  her  game.  To  which  the  child  an- 
swered, sotto-voce,  "  It's  not  my  fault,  anv- 
how.  '  A^o  con  quicn  naccs  sino  con  (juieu 
paces:  Not  with  whom  thou  art  bred  but 
with  whom  thou  art  fed." 

The  eatables  disposed  of,  the  wine-skins 
empty,  even  the  gallon  of  salad  mixture- 
equal  parts  of  vinegar  and  water  in  which 
tomatoes,  cucumbers,  and  onions  had  swum 
—drunk  and  relished,  the  only  possible  out- 
come of  this  gastronomic  debauchery  in  such 
a  place  was  the  immediate  siesta  in  which  all 

indulged. 

On  waking  I  saw  my  companions  strewn 
about  sound  asleep  in  the  shade,  their  arms 
under  their  flushed  cheeks.     Near  the  cart 

the  gaunt  old  mule  was  munching  her  fodder, 
her  ribbed  anatomy  brought  out  by  light  and 

205 


..'/-■ 


^'^ 


"-*      "^N^*- 


r^,:^5=     _^ 


H  ->■-;  ^ 


^ 


Oj/   the   Koad  (o   Los   Mo  linos. 


The   Morcna 


shadow.  At  the  foot  of  the  meadow  the  lit- 
tle scrvant-irirl  hummed  softly  to  herself. 
Bud  of  a  potential  cocjuctte  she  was  re- 
hearsing  her   artful    feminine    trieks,    tiltnig 

her  head,  makinp;  a  pretenee  to  eourtesv,  and 
essaying  some  partieularly  fetehing  danee  hg- 

ure. 

A   grove    of    tall  chestnuts  and    pines    on 

the  edge  of  the  meadow  encircled  the  S(iuare 
stone  basin  where  the  precious  benefactor  of 
the  irardcns  had  its  source.  From  its  bottom 
of  sand  and  pebbles  there  rose  through  the 
clear  crystal   continuous   strings  of   bubbles. 

iMsh  swam  in  and  out  of  the  moss  which 
clothed  the  stone  and  floated  on  the  surface 
of  the  water,  and  dragon-tlies  and  swallows, 
darling    in    rapid    zigzags,    snatched    a    tmy 

drink. 

The   deep  silence  was  broken  by  the  spas- 
moihc,  harmonious  tinkling  of  the  mule-bells 

and  the  far-away  trill  of  a  solitary  song-bird. 
The  wind,  crathering  strength  as  it  approached, 
like  waves  cralloping  to  the  shore,  came  in 
recurrent  gusts  with  long  rustlings  agitatmg 

the  tree-tops.  Between  the  tree-trunks,  ap- 
parently near  enough  to  touch,  our  big  neigh- 
bors, the  enormous  cliffs,  blazed  in  the  flam- 

207 


1  iu'   Alor 


ena 


'..-'• 


'\i^--~"rr:.:>mm.    ■■■•■I  '■ 


■y ;.  1 


II 


IE?, 


boyant    liu-lu    which    a-vralr,i  iht'  Mraii-rlr 
colored  veins   running  throuoh  t  he  i,  iMva|,i- 
tous  declivities,  and  all   their  wealth  of  pict- 
uresque and  rngoed  heautv.      In  a  like  place 
the  knitrht  performed   his  self-imposed  pen- 
ance "at  the  foot  of  a  lofl\-  mountain  "  al,,no- 
the  skirt  of  which   ran  "ao-entic   streamlet" 
encrelinu  "ag^reen  and  luxuriant  meadow" 
It^  may  be  the  very  si)ot  Ccr\-antes  had   in 
mmd,  although  the  consensus  of  learned  opin- 
ion has  placed  it  a  few  leagues  farther  cast. 
Ihe    impression    made    by   this    happv    and 
peaceful  little  world,  with  its  runnin<r' water 


20S 


.^v*' 


.^f. 


A-:- ' -;;.:■ -r^r 


77/c-  J 'id  at/  Panero. 


»       ■»«  -   •<».-•  .  V"  - 


mmm 


The   Morena 


u.xurinnco   of  vei^etation    in    t 


H 


Hi  id -I 


ill  is  i    ..>-.......,,.,  ^ ,     ...     .,  ^^. 

o 

ni  the  uurA  Inrlndiling  sccaciy,  wa^  iila^  tiiat 
ui  an  nasi-  in  liic  limitlc-^  sanclN  of  ific 
Sahara. 

W'c  started  late  for  I-J  X'i.^o.  The  sun 
was  burninor,  yet  long  before  reachino-  tlie 
hos|)itable  Casa  Teresa  we  wra])])ecl  our- 
selves in  overeoats  and  blankets,  the  transi- 
tion at  sunset  being  so  abrupt  from  heat  to 
cold. 

1  went  to  Los  Molinos  alone  with  my 
couple  of  Guardias,  it  being  far  too  hard  an 
cxeursion  for  the  Senora  and  her  husl)and— 
takmg  one  as  it  did  into  "the  verv  bow- 
els of  the  mountain,"  in  the  midst  of  sueh 
wnld  scenery  as  Cervantes  described  in  those 
chapters  wherein  are  recounted  the  knicrht's 

adventures     with     the    Tattered     One,     Car- 

denio. 

This  deserted,  trackless  maze  of  rough  hills 
and  valleys,  inaccessible  except  to  men  who 

know^  the  ground  well,  was  in  old  days  the 
refuge  of  those  who  sought  eseape  from  jus- 
tice and  from  the  Inquisition,  and  until  the 

last  generation  they  were  the  haunts  of  bands 

of  brigands,  whose  bloody  exploits  remaining 
Vividly  impressed  upon  the  popular  imagina- 


:io 


The  Morena 


tioii,  are  still  i.ai  liu:  lips  of  men,  u-ouien.  aiul 

childrtai  in  the  region. 

It  took  us  fourteen  hours  of  the  hardest 
walking  to  get  to  the  mill,  which,  in  si)ite  of 
the  dangerous  path  conneeting  it  with  the 
rest  of  the  world,  is  not  altogether  abandoned. 
Water-power  is  searee,  fuel  too  expensive, 
and  so  with  serious  risks  of  losing  mules  or 
sacks  of  hour  on  the  way,  this  mill,   whose 

tine  water-power  can  turn  out  flour  cheaply, 
is  perforce  patronized  by  the  poorer  folks 
alone,  and  kept  going  a  few  months  of  the 
year. 

Not  onlv  is  the  way  dangerous  for  beasts, 
but  it  is  not  without  perils  for  the  pedestrian. 
The  shinv,  smooth  rock  or  the  loose,  broken 

stones  on    the  steep   descents  oiTering  an 

equally  uncertain  footing,  may  easily  be  the 
means  of  landing  him  at  the  bottom  of  a 
precipice.      The    path     is    staked    out    with 

heaps  of  stones,  perpetuating  the  memory  of 

such  accidents,  and  to  each  of  these,  follow- 
ing the  custom,  w^e  religiously  added  a  stone 
in    passing.      This    custom    is  still    enforced 

nowadays  in  Sicily  and  in  the  whole  of 

Northern  Africa. 

But    the    scenery    was     grand     in   the     ex- 

211 


.^-«.«' 


V  ' 


The  Morena 


treme.  Titanic  crag^s  alternated  with  ii^roves 
of  robust  myrtles  and  lentisks,  w^ith  slopes 
where     the     trailing     arbutus     and      laurels 

grew  in  profusion  above  carpets  of  daisies 
and  carnations  in  the  valleys  whose  air  was 
pungent  with  penetrating  aromas.  We 
found    out    the    truth    of    the    proverb    (?io 

hay  atajo  sin  trabajo)  ''there  is  no  short 

cut  without  hard  work  "  in  the  last  part  of 
the  journey,  which  we  made  jumping  from 
boulder  to  boulder,  after  the  fashion  of  Car- 
denio,  the  One  Crazed  by  Love.  It  was  the 
only  way  to  reach  our  destination  quickly, 
and  as  safe  a  one  as  the  mule-path. 

Set  at  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  pit,  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  with  almost  perpendicu- 
lar giant  walls  that  seemed  about  to  crush  it, 
was  the  mill,  the  most  forlorn,  miserable  place 
I  had  as  yet  seen.  Untenanted  at  the  time, 
it  stared  at  us  from  its  windowdess  apertures 
like  a  corpse  from  eyeless  sockets.  Behind 
its  rotten  door  we  found,  tenanted  by  bats 
and    rats,  a   dirty  room   w^hose  vast,  musty 

emptiness,  framed  by  tottering  w^alls,  pro- 
duced a  tragic  and  forlorn  impression.  There 
was  no  relief  in  anything.  All  was  abjectly 
sordid— hopeless.     The  water  was  icy  cold 

212 


The  Morena 


and    so   was    the   night.      We    built   a   lire    in 
the  middle  of  the  Hoor  and  slept  by  it,  each 
one  of  us  keeping  watch  in  turn. 
When  1  arrived  at  El  Viso  the  next  night, 

thoroughly  exhausted,  I  felt  as  if  1   had  been 
throutrh  one  of  the  circles  of  the  Inferno. 


.1 

I 


\ 


2T3 


I 


I     >J 


VII 


Venta  de  Cardenas 


KlfiX^A' 


-^^ 


Venta  de  Cardenas 

I  LEFT  Viso  with  Jose  and  his  cart  and 
two  Guardias  in  the  middle  of  one  of 
those  starry  nights  when  the  atmosphere 
Is  diaphanous  and  a  warm  wind,  velvety  and 
caressing,  makes  travelling  an  unadulterated 
pleasure,  even  if  the  prospects  for  the  com- 
ing day  are  fraught  with  the  probabilities 
of  a  thunder-storm. 

After  a  league  or  more  I  found  myself  on 
the  same  Royal  Highway  connecting  Madrid 

with  Seville  that  had  led  me  formerly  toward 
Toboso.  We  followed  it  southward  where 
the  divers  groups  of  the  Sierra  summits  were 
distributed  about  us  in  an  architectural  con- 
fusion full  of  striking  character  that  changed 
alluringly  with  the  direction,  the  ascents  and 
descents  of  the  road. 

A  few  ruins  alone  remain  to  tell  of  the 
ancient  prosperity  and  busy  life  of  this  great 
thoroughfare,  whose  solid  construction  still 
defies  the  elements.     We  called  for  a  cup  of 

coffee  at  the  ruins  of  a  Venta  where,  in  the 

217 


Venta  dc  Cardenas 


two  rooms  still  intact  lived  a  young  couple, 
the  man  surly,  the  woman  with  the  look  of  a 
beaten  hound,  both  with  manners  strangely 
constrained  that  made  us  silent  and  uncom- 
fortable. The  Guardias  explained,  when  we 
were  on  our  way  again,  how  the  husband 
was  jealous  of  his  wife,  and   that  was  why 

they  lived  in  such  a  wilderness,  miles  away 

from  any  human  beina'. 

o 

At  the  lowest  point  of  a  long  descent  the 
road  turned  abruptly  to  the  right,  crossing  a 

bridge  thrown  over  a  rapid  torrent.     Fac- 
ing the  bridge  and  tumbling  down  hill  was 
an  avalanche  of  gigantic  bowlders,  the  road 
turnmg  from  them  straight  down  and  follow- 
ing the  other  side  of  the  torrent,  which  it  re- 
crossed  at  another  bridge  a  hundred  yards 
below.      These    bowlders,  commanding  the 
road,  long    stretches   of  which    were   visible 
above  and   below,  afford    an  ideal  place  for 
brigands  to  lie  in  ambush.     And  in  this  place 
more  murders  and  robberies  have  been  com- 
mitted than  in  all  the  rest  of  Spain,  so  my 
Guardias  said.     Until  the  introduction  of  the 
Kemington  and  Martini-Henrv  rifles,  mules 
and  loads  were  stolen,  coaches  held  up  and 
u-hen  travellers  refused  to  surrender  or  made 


2lS 


Venta  dc  Cardenas 


a  show  of  resistance  they  were  butchered  and 
their  heads  cut  off  and  set  on  the  parapet  of 
the  bridge  to  serve  as  a  warning. 

On  one  of  the  summits  to  the  right  of  the 

road,  the  cavern  of  the  Paolos,  head-quarters 
of  a  renowned  band,  was  visible.  The  Pao- 
los were  brothers  in  blood  and  crime  whose 
exploits  were  among  the  choicest  bogy  tales 

with  which  Jose,  who  had  seen  one  of  the 
Paolos,  regaled  me.  They  were  grewsome 
and  revolting  stories. 

Thanks  mainly  to  the  efficient  work  of  the 

Guardia  Civile  the  road  is  now  absolutely 
safe  from  brigands,  and  has  been  for  long, 
yet  when   I    questioned  my  men  as  to  what 

possible  dangers  there  could  be  for  me  in 

travelling  alone  about  here,  they  said  that 
there  would  be  none  for  poor  people,  but 
that   some   rough,    ignorant  chap   of   an   ^zr- 

ricro  who  happened  to  cross  my  path  might 
take  a  notion  to  put  his  steel  into  me  on  the 
chance  of  finding  a  peseta  or  something  bet- 
ter on  my  person.    The  amusing  thing  about 

It  was,  that  with  my  scanty  and  poor  Man- 

chegan  habiliments  I  had  imagined  myself 
an  ideal  picture  of  a  penniless  tramp. 

The  road  continued  to  skirt  the  waterway, 

2T9 


\"cnta  dc  Cardenas 


:  ^^•;:S^-' 


^""-v' 


\    -  -  v^^  — ^ 


I'iEK 


v^ 


which,  losing  its  wildness,  had  now  become 
a  gently  bubbling  little  river.  The  railroad 
overtaking  it   passed  over  it,  and  with   river 

and  railroad  for  constant  company  we  kept 

on  steadily  down  grade,  meeting  not  a  soul. 
No  trains  passed,  and  the  noise  of  the  waters 
was  the   only  voice  breaking  the   oppressive 

Stillness. 

The  mountains  gradually  crowded  upon  us 
and    towered    high    with    their  rarments    of 


220 


Vcnta   dc    Cardenas 


^ST^. 


w,.  ■  ■  - 


^^- 


woods,  pierced  through  in  places  by  pris- 
matic excrescences  of  rock.  Our  path  was 
strewn  with  falling  debris,  constantly  disin- 
tegrated from  the  rocks  by  the  action  of  the 

elements.  Rich,  metallic  chunks  of  quartz 
showed  the  wealth  lying  fallow  in  these 
Morena  Mountains,   celebrated   even  in  the 

days  of  the  Roman  occupation  for  mines  of 
copper,  lead,  antimony,  and  silver  which  have 
been  abandoned  or  forgotten  for  centuries. 

221 


Venta  clc  Cardenas 


Before  the  lonely  station  of  Venta  de 
Cardenas  we  came  upon  the  most  miserai)le 
settlement  of  any  on  my  travels.  A  half- 
dozen  low,  windowless,  mud  hovels,  wallowed 

m  pools  of  filth  where  pigs  rooted  and  chick- 
ens waded.  Repulsive  specimens  of  human- 
ity, in  vile  rags  and  tatters,  and  dirty  bevond 
imagining,  slouched  in  doorways,  regardinir 
us  with  stupid  stares.  One  felt  tliat  any 
moment  they  might  go  down  on  all-fours 
and  grovel  with  the  animals  from  which  they 

seemed  so  slightly  removed. 

How  these   beings  can   continue  so  low  in 


isSL'-^^.'f- 


-i^ 


Wm 

:'^^ 


V     ^    V    -I 


1^ 


Venta   dc   Cardenas 


the  human  scale  in  a  country  where  the 
land  could,  with  labor,  be  made  to  bear  de- 
cent returns  is  a  puzzling  question,  unless 
one  considers  the  answer  to  be  the  owner- 
ship of  the  mountains  by  rich  proprietors 
who  are  keeping  them  as  game  preserves. 

These    peasants    have    no    resource    but 
poaching.     Too  ignorant  to  know  how   to 

send  the  game  they  kill  to  the  cities  by  rail, 
and  unable  to  dispose  of  it  in  the  miserable 
villages  of  the  region,  they  simply  kill  in  or- 
der to  support  life,  and  their  existence,  passed 

between  eating,  sleeping,  and  outwitting:  the 
cramekeepers,  is  as  primitive  and  degraded 
as  that  of  their  ancestors  of  the  Flint  X^. 

Beyond  the  station  the  road  climbs  the 

flanks  of  the  ever-narrowing  valley,  having 
as  protection  on  the  side  of  the  precii)icc  a 
ehaplet   of  morituics,  the  stone  posts  set  up 

every  few  yards  of  the  way,  which  were  so 

typical  and  ]MCturesquc  a  feature  of  old 
S})anish  roads.  These  vwr/o7ies  point  the 
way  to  the  Venta  de  Cardenas,  situated  near 

the  entrance  to  the  celebrated  canon  of  De- 
spenaperros.  It  is  there  that  the  luxuriant 
growth  of  the  cactus  begins  heralding  Anda- 
lusia, whose  verv   name  is  music  ;  the  land 

223 


h^  j«t.',1fc«i*J».t-»  »'^:i*'* 


Venta   dc   Carilcnas 


Of  castanets  and  llou-ers.  of  hcultchin-  ./.ar- 
rcnis  and  dancing  girls,  of  gitanos  and  tore- 
adors, and  all  sorts  of  folk  cquallv  fascinat- 
ing ni  romance  and  commonplace  in  realitv 
Of  Old   the    life   of   the    AJorena    centred 
about  this   defile   of  Despenaperros,  literally 
mcanmg,  "  thrown-over  dogs,"  probably  si<r- 
nify.ng    that     here     xvas    seen     the     last    .'^f 
those  mhdel  hounds,  the  Moors,  u-he,i,  ahan- 
donuig  loledo  and  their  northern  province 


.1      C! 


/ 


..h 


H 


they  retreated  toward  Andalusia.      Dcspciia- 
perros    remained    the  dividing-line    bctNVCcn 

thnstians  and  Moors  during  the  hitter's  oc- 


224 


Venta  de  Cardenas 


■'Xf,N 


\     ' 


rfe£i-s^i.vA/i»^  /""-^f  jH^-, -«-^— — 


•^      \ 


>«K»    .     *♦■ 


WHkr-v        / 


1 


V 


% 


ciipation  of  Grenada.    It  was  then  the  true 

Portal  of  tlie  South,  through  which  passed 
ah  tlic  traffic  between  the  capital,  Seville, 
and  Andalusia  ;  but  in  place  of  the  anima- 
tion of  old  days,  the  strings  of  coaches  and 
troops  of  loaded  mules,  there  are,  but  a  few 
times  a  day,  the  screeching  whistle  and  rum- 
blino:  noise  of  a  railwav  train.      It  is  still  the 

gate  of  Andalusia,  but  its  life  has  vanished, 

and  it  is  probably  more  lonely  now  than   it 


225 


Vrnta   dc  Cardenas 


litiS^i^ 


!. 


n. 


ig 


A^/^V//  6'rt'Wi'  at  the  Wnta  dc  Cardenas. 


\. 


\ 


ha'^  ^rcn  at  aii\^  linif  since  tlic  Romans  cr>ii- 
quered   Ihcria. 

1  lie  Waita  dc  Cardenas,  i)rccious  relic  uf 
the  limes  when  traveliin^i^^  was  done  by  car- 
riages or  on  foot,  looks  down  upon  the  onlv 
new  feature  of  the  scene,  its  enemy,  the  rail- 
road. What  a  brilliant,  active,  well-filled 
life  the  old  caravansary  has  had  !  How  many 
historical  figures — kings  and  queens^  princes 

of  the  Chinch  and  ambassadors,  captains  and 
merchants  from  the  Indies — have  stopped 
within  its  walls,  elbow  to  elbow  with  the 
common   fray,  the   muleteers,  and   soldiers. 

It  remains  substantially  as  it  w^as  built  over 
three  centuries  ago,  solid,  though  neglected 
and  telling  its  pathetic  story  in  its  old  stones, 

enormous   stables,  and  big   gateway,   large 

enough  for  two  royal  carriages  to  pass 
through. 

We  had  a  noonday  feast  in  the  grand  old 

place.     The  ania,  a  fine  type  of  Maritorncs, 

deigned  to  do  the  cooking.  (True,  there 
were  no  servants.)  The  place  had  a  fine 
air,    and    pigeons,    and     chickens,    cats    and 

swallows,    filled    its   lofty  emptiness   with 

some  sort  of  life.  In  the  enormous  room 
where  \\q  walked  about  and  lay  down  to  rest, 


227 


X'liuj   dc   Carifenas 


Vcnta   de   CnrdcMia'^ 


**s^• 


>y 


M%!' 


•;.^-. 
■■^"^i^- 


^-?!^-' 


.>^ 


^>  1 


i:^ij4.||^ . 


which  is  hall,  dininir-room,  and  carriage-house 
combined,  a  hundred  of  our  carts  could 
have  moved  about  easilv. 

When  our  little  party  sat  before  the  low 
bench,  over  which  a  couple  of  partridges  and 
a   rabbit    made  a  brave   show  side  by  side 

with  the  palatable  salad  of  cucumbers  and 
tomatoes  swimmincr  In  a  bier  bowl  of  vinefrar 
and  water,  we  all  dipped  our  spoons  demo- 
cratically into  the  dish,  while  cats  and  chick- 


225 


ens,  troo|)ing  around,  begged,  each  after  his 

fasliion,  and  not  being  gratified,  attempted  to 
steal. 

l\v()  miserable  fellows  in  scanty  attire  of 
sliirt  and  trousers,  and  those  not  whole,  and 
with  scarlet  kerchiefs  tied  on  their  heads, 
cauK;  in  with  the  dehant  alertness  of  true  Bo- 
hemians. They  did  not  succeed  In  disguising 
their  half-rowdy,  half-g\'psy  looks  even  before 


cS—r 


i-:rA<i*-i-  ^-y'- . 


f^.^&^ 


fA  • 


d. 


v\--:'  r^'/---. 


V'^A/ 


.LC 


U 


^  -    -/  I 


f 

r 


^     -..  .'  '»■ 

the  Guardias.  Having  saluted  every  one  with 
a  word,  they  sat  down  by  the  wall  opposite 
us,  depositing  with  extreme  care  a  bundle  of 

rao^s,  from  which  emero^ed  a  straight   sword, 

229 


n 


^'1 


i\ 


Venta  de  Cardenas 


carefully  wrapped  up.  "  Toreros^''  Jose  said. 
One  was  no  more,  evidently,  than  an  acolyte, 

some  apprenticed  bandcrillcro,  probably  ;  the 
other — the  cspada — had  a  strikingly  hand- 
some face,  yet  with  a  sinister  hint  cf  the 
devil  upon  it.     A  lithe  and  muscular  figure, 

he  stood  against  the  wall  as  gracefully  poised 
as  a  Greek  statue.  He  asked  a  few  ques- 
tions, answered  charily  by  our  guards,  who 
put  on  an  official  attitude  of  disapprobation. 

The  strani^ers  were  Andalusians  e^oino:  to  the 
province  of  Ciudad  Real  (La  Mancha)  to 
see  if  they  could  find  out  when  and  where 
the  little  local  bull-fights  took  place. 

They  were  blissfully  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  this  was  the  province  of  Ciudad  Real. 
Apparently  they  thought  of  nothing  besides 
the  artful  tricks  of  the  torero,  and  how  to 
attain  such  proficiency  in  them  as  to  become 
celebrated,  wear  good  clothes,  travel  in  state, 
and  have  their  fill  of  the  best.  Looking  like 
famished  beings  or  feline  beasts  of  prey,  with 

noiseless  and  nimble  gestures,  a  foxy  look  in 
their  eyes,  they  would  not  give  up  their  hope 
of  being  invited  to  join  us  till  the  last  chance 
was  gone.     The  avio,  ama,  and  the  children 

followed  us  at  table,  and  there  was  nothing 

230 


I' 


f 


v.      \        ••                     ^  _ 

■       '        >*  •'••*'«  ■to' 

^    M    '    ^     •  ^    /  /  ■■  i                 : 

■^  ^  \  r^.:  !  /  ^-    t  m            i 


In   a   Popular  Resort  of  Seville. 


\%\ 


HI 


Venta  dc  Cardenas 


left  when  they  finished.  So  I  gave  the  tore- 
ros a  small  silver  coin.  Judging  from  their 
surprised  expression  it  must  have  been  the 
first  they  had  ever  received  in  this  wav.  The 
smiles  told  plainly  that  they  were  not  sure 
but  there  was  something  the  matter  with  the 
giver's  wits.  But  they  took  it  and  treasured 
it  in  many  folds  of  a  rag,  and  I  was  con- 
vinced that  when  it  should  leave  its  posses- 
sors it  would  be  for  more  than  an  ordinarily 
full  compensation. 

As  we  stood  by  the  gateway  another  typi- 
cal group  of  barefooted  travellers  made  its 

appearance.  A  woman  sitting  on  the  top 
of  a  load  on  a  donkey's  back,  her  husband 
leading,  two  children  followinir  behind.    Thev 

belonged  to  the  fakir  fraternity,  going  from 
village  to  village,  and  fiesta  to  fiesta,  seHing 
trinkets,  the  mother  telling  fortunes,  the  boy, 
the  wickedest  little  fellow  I  ever  saw,  mak- 
ing a  specialty  of  the  zapatcra,  the  Spanish 

clog  dance.  Upon  the  paterfamihas,  an  ill- 
humored,  villainous-looking  scoundrel,  our 
Guardias  kept  a  close  watch.     Even  old  Jose, 

who  had  seen  "everything,"  as  he  used  to 
say,  eyed  him  suspiciously  and  remarked  : 
"  He  is  of  the  kind  that  would  cut  a  fellow's 


232 


Venta   de   Cardenas 


^'^^Mi 


■ '  'ir'' 


*'  •  ^; 


■4 1  '^ 


v.„.. 


m 


throat  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing."  The 
bov,  with  an  air  of  bravado  sang  a  fragment 
of  a  blasphemous  pctciicra  : 

I  love  you  more  than  my  life, 

I  love  you  more  than  my  mother ; 

And  even  if  it  be  a  sin, 

I  love  you  more  than  the  Virgin  of  Carmel. 

"  Shame  ! "     said     one     of     the     Guardias. 
'' Don't  insult  our  Lady!"     Whereupon  the 

whole  party  turned  and  looked  at  us    in 

feigned  surprise. 

They  spent  two  cents  for  the  privilege  of 

233 


.1  '^■"-* 


^  ■ 

•.-.~4  t  i 


ivy: 


A  .jv 


^t-^j,^.^    -^>.'',;-     ■  .-     ■> -^'-'  .-^--*(  r!%=i'    *^a*l    ^-^^^^ 


*^a. 


Z('.v"    Or^aUL 


Venta  de  Cardenas 


usine  the  fire  to  cook  somethino^  they  had 
brouo:ht  with  them,  and  for  the  few  hours' 
shelter  for  their  beast  and  themselves.    They 

were  in  vile  humor,  having  fared  badly  at 
the  fiesta  of  Viso,  and  while  repacking  their 
donkey's  load  they  gave  utterance  to  their 
eontempt  for  the  Morenans,  silly,  common, 

ignorant  folk,  who  would  not  pay  to  be 
amused  nor  buy  good-for-nothing  trinkets. 
However,  all  was  to   be  well   soon,  for  they 

were  on  their  wav  to  Seville—"  Paradise," 

they  called  it.  Very  like  Parisians,  these  low 
Sevilians,  who  think  no  other  town  worth 
living  in   but  their  own,  and   look   upon   the 

rest  of  the  world  as  l)arl)arians. 

In  the  afternoon  they  trooped  out  and 
away  toward  their  beloved  goal,  the  little  girl 
turning  somersaults  and  jumping  for  joy,  the 

boy  imitatino;  the  guitar  accompaniment  to 

the  woman's  sonir  : 

Seville  of  my  soul, 

Seville  of  my  joy  ; 

Who  would  not  love  to  be  in  Seville, 

Even  though  he  must  sleep  on  its  cobble-stones  ? 

And  in  the  distance  the  father's  rough 
voice  uttered  loud,  abominable  curses  at  El 
Viso  and  the  Morenans. 

235 


Venta  de  Cardenas 


hrom  the  \  enta  to  the  end  of  the  great 
breach  of  Despena])crros  the  Rox.il  Road, 
narrow  and  ill-kept,  is  hewn  oiu  of  the 
mountain. 

We  leisurely  followed  its  smooth  curves 
and  sharp  turns,  each  one  of  which  opened 
a  new  and  impressive  vista.  On  our  ri<rht 
the  bare  walls  towered  straioht   up  into  Uie 

blue  vault  amid  the  ileecy  eloudkts.  On 
our  left  was  the  precipice;  half-wav  duwn 
it^  side  the  railroad,  ribhondike.  passed  over 

bridges  and  occa-ionalh'  uiNippeaivd  mto 
tunnel^,  and  at  the  hottoin.  txvo  ihou:>and 
leei  })eh)w,  the  ,<rreenis}i  boiling-  watei-s  hur- 
ried on  toward  the  Gua(lahjui\-ir  an.c.  Anda- 
lusia.    The  thick  -tuvcs  of  wild  obvcs  and 

serubby  oaks  on  the  deeli\it ie- ;  the  luxu- 
riance of  ferns,  creepin.o:  plants,  and  vi\id 
,irrass,  studded  with  flowers    beknv  ;    the  rigid 

t)arrcnncss  of  liie  enormous  masses  of  stone, 
composed  a  finely  dramatic  ensemble.  Some- 
of  the  scenes  each  turn  of  the  road  revealed 
may  have  been  more  picturesque  than  others 

—the  finest  was  perhaps  that  of  Los  Oro-^n^os, 

a  piece  of  sheer  rock  four  thousand  fect^hcrh,' 
whose  regular  ridges  give  it  a  va.crue  resein- 
blance  to  a  row  of  gigantic  organ-pipes— but 

236 


.^  ''.'C^\,;l  "^■' 


Kj^ 


Malaguiha. 


A^enta  de  Cardnia 


s 


the  whole  eanon  offered  an  ever- var\  in<' 
succession  of  grandiose  and  su])erh  scen- 
ery. 

The  sun  disa[)peared  from  our  \'ic\v,  and 
during  the  rest  of  our  tramp  throu^rh  the 
passage,     darkness     and     dampness     reioned 

absolute  and  all  its  beauties  were  obliter- 
ated. 

When  we  emerged  at  last  from  the  eloom 
there  was  framed  between  the  two  sentinels 
of  Despefiaperros,  looming  up  black  and  for- 
bidding, a  splendid  vision  of  Andalusia.  Its 
denuded  hills  were  transfigured  into  a  medley 
of  incandescent  glowing  hues  looking  hkc 

the  heart  of  a  volcano — under  a  glorious  sky 
of  melted  gold,  which  gradually  faded  and 
changed  into  opal.  Later  the  mirage  be- 
came something  mysterious  and  indefinable, 
cradled  for  the  night  under  a  veil  of  trans- 
parent softness. 

On   coming  back   the    moon    had    begun 
shedding  its  weird  radiance  over  the  iron'v 

evoking-  a  fantastic  world  of  shadows  and 
lights.  An  {7r7^2ero  passed  us  seated  side- 
wise  atop  his  donkey  and  vociferating  a  wild 
mala<rucna   which   he   accompanied  on   his 


guitar. 


238 


A'enta  de  Cardenas 


'*  Brother,"     said     one     of     the    Guardias, 
"where  art  thou  going?" 

''  Home,  man,"  he  replied  at  the  top  of  his 

voice  ;   "  1  am  going  home  !      Viva  la  gracia. 
Que  bella  !     Que  guapa  !     Andalusia  1 " 


239 


X'ciiia  tie  Cardenas 


the    wiiulc    cafiuii    olTcrcii    ,111    vvcr  ~  xdvx  u\<r 

succession  of  grandiose  and  sLi])erb  scen- 
ery. 

The  sun  disaj)peared  from  our  view,  and 
during  the  rest   of   our   tranij)  througli  tlie 

passage,  darkness  and  dampness  reigned 
absolute  and  all  its  beauties  were  obliter- 
ated. 

When  we  emerged  at  last  from  the  oh)om, 

there  was  framed  between  the  two  sentinels 
of  Despenaperros,  looming  up  black  and  for- 
bidding, a  splendid  vision  of  Andalusia.      Its 

denuded  hills  were  transfigured  into  a  medley 

of  incandescent  glowing  hues  looking  like 
the  heart  of  a  volcano — under  a  glorious  sky 
of   melted   gold,  which   gradually  faded   and 

changed  into  opal.  Later  the  mirage  be- 
came something  mysterious  and  indefinable, 
cradled  for  the  night  under  a  veil  of  trans- 
parent softness. 

On  coming  back  the  moon  had  begun 

shedding  its  weird  radiance  over  the  ^imj:v 
evoking    a    fantastic    world    of    shadows    and 
lights.      An    a r 7' 2 era  passed    us   seated   side- 
wise  atop  his  donkev  and  vociferatimr  a  wild 
malao;ucna    which    he    accom])anied    on    his 


guitar. 


238 


Veil  I  a  dc  Cardenas 


**  Ih  tiliier/'  said  one  of  the  Guardias, 
"  where  art  thou  going  ?  " 

"  Home,  man,"  he  replied  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  ;  "  I  am  going  home  !  Viva  la  gracia. 
Que  bella  I     Oue  guapa  I     Andalusia  ! " 


239 


•>7 


t 


DUE  DATE 

1 

i 

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9/ 

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